Loopholes and Jumping Hurtles
by Zera Henna
Summary: In a world where Angels and Demons live and breathe along with humans, Sherlock and John are somewhat reluctant flatmates. John has quite the temper, a nippy little Angel, while Sherlock, a tall dark-winged Demon, isn't one to socialize. Sherlock soon goes into heat, causing the Angel to second guess their relationship. AUw/SLASH sub!John dom!Sherlock. New cover image! (PleaseR&R).
1. You Didn't Say Go Away

_I might be on the side of the angels, but don't think for a __**second**_ _that I am one._

_-_

Sherlock eyed the back of John's head, his eyes narrowing when he avoided his eye.

Something was wrong.

"Tea?" Sherlock asked, glancing down at John's mug.

"No, it's rum."

Sherlock groaned inwardly. Something was definitely wrong.

/*/

John's wings twitched as he sensed Sherlock was putting the puzzle together. But to many pieces were missing, and John preferred it that way. He avoided his sharp eyes, feeling the man's eyes as they rested on the back of his head. John drained his glass and set it in the sink.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Sherlock's tail swat the air in annoyance.

"John."

"Go away and take your deductions over to that plant over there," John warned. Sherlock didn't even glance at the dying potted plant John had just jerked his head at.

"John," Sherlock said stubbornly again.

John's wings drew into his back and tensed in anger. "What did I just say, or have you forgotten the meaning of 'go away'?"

"You didn't say 'leave me alone,'" Sherlock pointed out.

John's eyes flicked to the reflective glass on the cabinets and caught Sherlock's reflection.

He had moved a few paces back.

_Go away._

"You and you're damn loopholes," John growled, not in the mood. He swung around and stalked out of the kitchen and stomped up to his room.

He slammed his door as hard as he could and unfurled his wings, causing the paper on his desk and a few small things to flip up and settle in random places around the room. He knocked down his lamp post and didn't even bother to glance down to inspect the damage done to it when he heard it crash.

_John. John, you didn't say 'leave me alone.'_

John sank down to his knees, folding his wings back and in.

He should have said it was tea.

/*/

Sherlock was surprised at John's temper. He knew he was quite ragged, and he was sharp at the edges. Prickly.

Such anger stored up in such a little angel.

Sherlock shook his wing absentmindedly as he glanced at the remote of the telly resting on the couch's armrests.

He reached over and flicked on the telly.

"Three murders in the same house were conducted by three different people."

Boring. Next channel.

"A demon was found dead along with two angels and a human. It has been ruled out as a murder-suicide."

"Idiots. Can't they see it's a large-number hit?" he growled out, taking out his anger out on the news reporter on the telly.

He heard a crash and looked up at John's door. When John didn't come out, he looked back at the telly and wrapped and unwrapped his tail around his leg. _Anger, worry, annoyance, exasperation, curiosity, fondness._

All things Sherlock had to endure.

All things that Sherlock wished he didn't feel.

What had John said?

_You and you're damn loopholes._

If only emotions had loopholes.


	2. You didn't say come here

Sherlock Holmes sulked in the most idiotic and childish way possible.

John tryed desperately to ignore the demon's sulking and direct his attention to the task at hand; cleaning up the place that Sherlock had totally distroyed so he wouldn't look like the typical single slob to his date.

Of course, Sherlock had made that nearly impossible. Instead of hearing "I'm bring my date home, so don't mess everything up, ok, Sherlock?" he must have heard "Hey Sherlock, go make an explosive experiment and burn the cabinets while you're at it." Because thats exactly what he did.

John hurried to straighten up the kitchen and wipe up the soot, grumbling and making sounds of descust and annoyance. Meanwhile, in the livingroom, Sherlock was curled up in a loose ball facing the back of the couch, pouting. His wings were pressed close against his back, but they still hung off the edge of the couch by a few feet. His tail smacked the leg of the coffee table every now and again, when ever John hissed out colorful language or groaned Sherlocks name in annoyance.

Mrs. Hutson was going to have row with Sherlock for this one.

"Sherlock," John said, his tone harsh. When Sherlock refused to look back, still staring at the back of the couch, he threw the dish towel he had in his hands, which was covered in soot, straight at the sensitive area where his wings jointed to his shoulderblades. "I hate you so bloody much right now!" He hissed, smiling sligtly when the towel smacked Sherlock's back and he heard a faint release of breath from the reaction of the pain that shot up his wings and down his spine.

Sherlock set his jaw and refused to let his eyes water as the pain dulled and settled in the pit of his belly. He enjoyed the aftermath of pain though; demons had a way of coping with pain, and that was to counteract it with pleasure. A wave of heat rolled over his body, and he lost himself for a minute and let a small moan of satifaction leave his throat.

John, pissed as he was, couldn't help but react to the demon's sudden release of hormones. He flinched away, retreating back into the kitchen and started to clean, although this time he stayed silent.

Sherlock sensed the angel's retreat and ground his teeth together.

Make a move, you idiotic angel. He thought, his left wing twitching in irritation. "John."

There was a hesitation from John, but then he gave into his temper. "Shut up. I'm pissed at you."

"Jjjjjjoooohhhnnnnnn..." Sherlock wailed out.

"Shut it, I said."

This time he whispered. "Jjjjjjooooohn."

The angel's eyes narrowed and he shot daggers at Sherlock's back. "Shut the bloody fuck up." His tone was dark.

Sherlock got up suddenly, standing up on the coffee table, flaring out his wings and angling them in a dominant display.

John pressed his lips together and turned so Sherlock couldn't see the excitement in his eyes. "Sherlock, get off the bleedin' table." He said, trying to collect the anger that had been there only seconds ago but had shattered upon seeing Sherlock's display.

"No."

John groaned at Sherlock's childish behavior. "Sherlock, quit being a git."

"I'm bored." Sherlock declared.

"Call the yard." Came the short and clipped reply. John scrubbed at the melted plastic that was stuck on the tile on the floor but it refused to budge. He couldn't help but see the simularities in the melted plastic and the demon who was currently refusing to get his big feet, or the rest of him for that matter, off of the coffee table.

"No."

"Your impossible." John groaned. His wings flared up, the gesture simular to the act of throwing your hands up in fustration.

"John, I'm bored." Sherlock repeated.

"I got that, dickwad. You've made that perfectly clear. You don't have to be on the coffee table to declare your current state of amusement, alright, so get down." He was fed up and close to getting up and sweeping the broom stick under his feet to make the demon tumble off the table and hopefully on his face.

"Door." Sherlock said suddenly, getting down from his forbidden perch and loping on down the hall. John let out a deep groan as he heard the consulting detective make it down the stairs. He opened the door from the sounds of it, and slipped out, closing it behind him.

"You must be Sherlock," a girl said pleasently, her cheery aura making Sherlock want to puke. She had dimples and long red hair. Hand-me-down clothes. A purse of a brandname, but it was to old and worn down to be origially hers. Sherlock ignored her hand she had pulled up infront of herself to shake.

"And you are...?" Sherlock prompted rather rudely. John had told him her name last night, but he rather enjoyed the fall of her face and the unsettled look she got as she gathered John had not mentioned her to his flatmate.

"My name's Sandra. Sandra James." She cleared her throat recovered her originaly cheery face.

"Mmm. I see." He voiced his disintrest, not even masking his dislike. "Well, what are you doing here?"

"Uh." Her eyebrows knitted together for a half second, and then smoothed over. "I'm here to see John."

"Ah. Going shopping? Are you friends?" He asked, faking his intrest but throughly enjoying the look of confusion and hurt flickering across her face.

"Um, n...No, we're going on a date. Our second date, actually." She said, getting slightly defensive at the end.

"Oh." He gave her a look of general surprise and made his voice match his look.

"W..What?" She asked quickly.

"Oh, nothing. Just thought..." he paused for affect and cleared his throat. "Nevermind."

"What did you think?" She asked, taking the bait.

"Well. You know. What he is." He said, his voice low. She leaned in.

"What, an angel? Look, I'm not racist. My sister actually married a-"

"Oh no, not that." Sherlock's eyes widened in false shock. "God, no, not that."

"Oh." She let out a sigh. But then she looked confused again. "What, then?"

"Well... That he's... You know." He said slowly. He was having to much fun with this. Screwing with John's dates was a high point in his life.

"No. I don't know." She said flatly.

"Well, that... That he's queer. You did know that, didn't you?"

The look on her face was totally worth the shit he was going to get when John came back from this doomed date.


	3. Setting the Hurtles

Sherlock stood in the middle of the living room and stretched his wings out, a small content smile flashing across his face. He sighed happily.

When you go about your day but neglect part of your body-lets say your legs, for an example-it becomes extremely uncomfortable; your legs start to numb, then ache.

Same goes for demon and angel's wings. In the bussling world that is the modern times, it's a hard place for angels and demons. Their wings are constantly pressed against their back, and hardily ever flared out or let loose and limp. Thats why most angels tend toward the country, drawn by the open fields and roomy farm houses. Demons were extremely social creatures, and need contact with others more than angels required. Although, Sherlock was one of the most anti-social demon to ever grace the planet with his grumpy existance. He even went so far as to shove people out of the way with his wings when they got to close. But that didn't stop him from giving in to his instincts, which begged him to stay in centeral London. As long as he knew that on the other side of the walls of his flat was a city populated with thousands of people, he could carry on his anti-social behavior without going too far down the road to insanity.

Sherlock Holmes only had one friend, and he'd rather it stay that way.

He flapped his wings absentmindedly, causing half the paper in the room to flip up and fly around the room. He silently observed a page of his notes flip up infront of his face and land on the floor next to his left pinky toe. His wings throbbed happily as his soul sang him praise for letting them open to the air and breathe.

Sherlock let a hum out from deep in his throat as he swayed his wings in the breeze they created. It felt nice.

His zen mode was quickly interupted by the slamming of the front door, alerting Sherlock that a quite pissed angel was storming his way. Dispite this, Sherlock still stayed in the middle of the room, his wings still calmly moving and creating a lazy current of air that moved across the room and russled random papers and objects gently.

John stormed in and did a double take. He wasn't expecting Sherlock to be found airing out his wings. It was a rare sight.

Ignoring his own curiousity, he pushed it aside and replaced it with anger.

"Your a bloody git, you know that, right?!" He shouted, his face flushing pink. "You told my date I was a fuckin' queer!"

Sherlocks wings twitched but besides that he did not respond.

"Sherlock, I'm done with your bullshit! This is... This is behond ok. Its a far cry from alright. This is not fucking OKAY, this has gotten to the point where it isn't even toleratable. What are you trying to DO, Sherlock?! Ruin my life?!" John's hands found one of Sherlock's wings and he tugged, causing Sherlock to whirl around and face him. His own wings flared out, his anger flowing through them and causing his feathers to bristle. Sherlock's eyes roamed over John's face, and then his wings, deducting and abstracting information.

"It didn't seem to stop you. You got to snogging, at least." His voice was careful but John could hear a trembling undertone. John raised his eyebrows, and then scrunched them back together in fury.

"Sherlock, why did you do it?!" He hissed this time, but the pure anger in it was harsher than if he had shouted.

"Why? Why is is always 'why'? Why must everyone know the why's and how's and when's and what's about it all?" Sherlock sounded fustrated. "John, she was absurdly lower in quality than what you could have, what you could get!"

John growled. "What could I HAVE, Sherlock? What could I GET?!" He had reached over while Sherlock had talked and now he was clutching the demon's shirt collar, shaking him.

Sherlock gave him that look he always gave him when the answer was right infront of him.

John gave up when that was the only answer he got, letting Sherlock go and raising his wings up. "Leave." He growled. "Leave and don't come back until midnight."

Disapointment flickered across Sherlock's face and his soulders slumped slightly, his wings folding back into his body as he leaned down to grab his scarf.

The loopholes had turned into hurdles, Sherlock realized.

All because the stupid git infront of him was just that-a stupid git. 


	4. Jumping the First Hurtles

Sherlock somehow made it out of the crowd and on a smaller, less crowded street. Not one to press his luck when on sarga, he moved into the shadows of the alleys and made his way down the narrow paths back to 221 Baker Street.

As he immerged through the alley onto the main street, a large demon walked past and eyed him up, smiling. Flinching slightly, Sherlock ran for the door and flung it open, slamming it hastily and flying up the stairs.

When he ran into the flat, John turned around in surprise. "How far were you? That was a record of two minutes and a half."

"What was my other record?" Sherlock breathed out, catching his breath.

"Uh, three minutes and four seconds." John said, his face a bit scrunched. "Sherlock, I'd rather you don't breathe everywhere. You're hormones are filling up the damned room like a fog."

Sherlock whipped around and headed to his room, before John could see the apologetic look that for some reason had come to rest natrally on his face. He also shut his mouth before the kind words 'I apologize' tumbled out of his lips.

"Tea? I think we have some Sarga soother herbs burried back here somewhere." John called out. Sherlock heard sounds of suffling boxes from the kitchen.

What Sherlock really needed was a hot shower and John in the bed fully naked, but tea would have to do. Sherlock sighed, plopping down on the edge of his bed and unwrapping the scarf on his neck that suddenly felt too tight and constricting. His wings rested and stretched out limply on the bed, and he felt a wave of hot desire flood his system and override his body.

Flinging his jacket to the floor and walking swiftly down the hall, he found John putting the kettle on and getting the cups and tray ready. Rolling back and forward on the heels and balls of his feet, he took in every detail of John with smoldering consentration. John's anger towards him about the date he had ruined was slowly fading from his face. That was good, because if Sherlock were to force him to bend over with his pants down when John was angry, it would most likely end in Sherlock getting a swift punch on the jaw and a hard quick strangle followed by hateful glances and mumbles about how he was totally, utterly NOT gay, despite what others say and/or imply. Sherlock sighed as John turned around and realized he was in the kitchen.

"I thought you were in your room," John mumbled, his eyes flickering to his wings almost self consciously. His fingers folded and unfolded a take-out menu for a chinese place down the block that rested crinckled on the tabletop. Sherlock could see John was trying hard not to breathe the surrounding air in too deeply. "Um, Sherlock, it doesn't just affect demons. The sarga, I mean. So can you just..." he gestured back down the hall, to Sherlock's room. "I'll bring the tea, and if you're really good, I'll give you a patch or two, to calm down your, um, nerves." John started fidgeting with the menu more urgently before as Sherlock felt a wave of heat overtake his body again.

"John, John you need to fix this. You akways fix things. Put me back to normal." Sherlock was aware of his surroundings but only slightly aware of what his mouth was saying.

John sighed, clenching his jaw as he rounded the countertop and guided Sherlock-without touching him-into the hall and to the door of Sherlock's room. "Sherlock, for once in your life, just do what your told and stay in your room, please. I'll get you the tea, so just... I donno, sit and think about what non-explosive activities you could do in the next six to seven days, or whenever your sarga ends."

John left Sherlock standing in the doorway staring at his retreating figure, wandering his way to the screaming kettle and wondering if he himself, John Watson, super straight and totally not gay guy, could even keep it all in his pants for a whole week when Sherlock was giving off such a sweet and horny smell. 


	5. Stumbling Over A Loophole

Sherlock's eyes were glazed over as he gazed at the metal box in front of him. His fingers traced odd patterns on his exposed leg, the rest of his body barely covered by his bed sheet, which was tangled around his other ankle and drooped over his left wing. He couldn't remember the reasoning on why he was on the floor, back up against his bed, but Sherlock's mind was for once completely blank, so he allowed that knowledge to slip by him.

But the box. The box was locked, three separate locks with different keys to match. Each holding the lid down firmly.

He couldn't remember the last time he unearthed the box out of his closet and dragged it out for the world to see. All he knew was that it had been a very, very long while.

Sherlock's eyes slowly began to focus and he pulled out the keys from under his waded bed sheet and reached out to drag the box closer. Robotically, he unlocked the first two locks but paused on the third, running the pads of his fingertips over the cool metal.

Sighing, he lifted the last key and unlocked it, letting the lock hit the floor with a dull thud. His tail twitched as he opened the box, and before he could peer into the box, he closed his eyes and let out a breath.

His Sarga raged within him as he opened his eyes and reached within the box to uncover his small collection of toys.

He couldn't help but frown upon them. He really, truthfully hated them. Besides the obvious fact that Sherlock was a Dominant, he only liked the real deal. And shoving a plastic rubber piece shaped as a dick up your arse was not, in Sherlock's, or in anyone else's opinion, _the real thing_.

Sherlock was just about to close the lid and throw the box back into the closet when John rapped his knuckles on his door sharply. "Sherlock, you've been in there for two days. I know what I said about not breathing everywhere, but shutting yourself in your room doesn't solve any proble-"

Sherlock swooped up and unlocked the door, yanking it open harshly. John's eyes widened when he took in the sight before him, and as if on queue, the bed sheet slid down and off the demon's rigid frame and onto the ground.

John's face paled slightly and he looked to his left, the image of Sherlock's naked form burned into the back of his mind.

"-uh." John's face suddenly turned bright red. "R…right. Okay." He rubbed his forehead, his mouth pressed tightly together and his eyes closed. "Of course he's naked. Why did I expect anything different?" He seemed to be muttering to himself.

"John," Sherlock breathed, inching closer to the angel.

John flinched slightly, a wave of heat shooting straight down his body. "Could you tone the hormones down a bit?" He asked hopefully. His wings twitched softly when he saw that Sherlock was slowly coming closer.

"Why?" Sherlock whispered, his hands extending slowly, as he stalked forward silently with the likeliness of a feline.

"Sherlock, jesus, but your bloody sheet back on." He sighed angrily, backing up a bit to put distance between them.

"Hmm." Sherlock was not himself. Not at all. Overtaken by the need to throw John down on the floor and tear his clothes off, Sherlock had transformed into one of the most sexually bold demons in the city. But he was still faintly aware of what the consequences would be for throwing the doctor down on the ground and forcing sexual acts on him, so instead of doing what he ached to do, he stood still and reached down for his sheet, straightening up and settling the bed sheet over his shoulders, but neglected to cover his lower half.

John's eyes wandered and a faint pink still colored his cheeks. The angel's own hormones started to waft from him, but he didn't seem to notice. Sherlock, however, smelled it.

And suddenly his mind snapped to attention, slapping him out of his horny reverie. He flinched and covered himself, not noticing how disappointment flashed within the angel's eyes for a brief second, and whirled around to swiftly walk into his room, shutting the door in his face abruptly.

Sherlock cursed at himself as he pushed his back up against the door and slid down to sit on the floor.

John stood and stared at the door, his mouth open just a tad, and gave the door a look of disbelief.

**_Oh... heh... whoops._**

**_I really don't want this to be just smut, and I want it to be in character, if only slightly. Slow smut drives me crazy, but fast oneshots with no plot drive me even more bonkers. I don't know much about English sayings or phrases, so please excuse me for that._**

**_I would really love to know about what you guys think about it so far._**

**_I usually write this fic on my phone, so thats why the chapters are always so freaking short. I apologize._**

**_~Zera Henna_**


	6. Falling over a Hurtle

John wanted to fuck _something_. Sherlock's hormones were driving him _crazy_.

He set up a date with a girl he had talked to before and brushed off because all she was looking for was a quick fuck. He needed to get all this horniness out of his system before he had to result to toys. Or worse, Sherlock himself.

Sherlock had locked himself in his room again, only coming out when John was asleep or gone. John was both grateful and annoyed with that. He wanted to see his friend, but after seeing him naked, it was hard to ignore the hormones swirling around him like he was able to do _before_ all that.

The image of Sherlock's body was floating around in his mind when he realized he had overflowed his cup and was spilling his tea all over the counter.

"Shit." John hissed, wiping up the mess as his wings flared out in annoyance. Lestrade, being his usual self, let himself into the flat without even a knock o the open door.

"Hello. Wheres Sherlock?"

John spilled his tea all over again, turning to glare at the human in annoyance as he fetched the cleaning rag.

"In his room. And don't expect him to come out, either. He's not the best right now. And can you knock? You and Mycroft are always popping up and never do you once knock!" irritation seeped into the angel's tone as he hung the rag up to dry.

"Why?" Lestrade looked mystified. Of course, being human, he couldn't smell the heat rolling off the whole flat. Plus, the thought of Sherlock turning down a case seemed ridiculous, even if he was feeling a little off.

"Um." John, being the loyal modest angel he was, tried to think of a cover.

"Because, Lestrade, he has been confined to his room by orders of the government for three weeks." John glowered at the man coming through the door.

"You guys need to learn how to knock," John spit out, before turning to Mycroft, raising his eyebrows. "'By orders of the government?'" He mocked, his nerves frayed from so much exposure to Sherlock's scent that it was getting to his usual calm composure.

"Whats wrong with him?" Lestrade asked, eyebrows knitted together.

Before Mycroft could open his mouth all the way, John interrupted. "Nothing. He's perfectly healthy. But its something he has to deal with for awhile. Alright? Do your research. Now shoo. Out of my flat before I get my gun." The look on the doctors face must have alerted them that he was not kidding, because even though both of them held high ranks in the government and police, they both set their jaws and moved (slowly but surly) to the door once again, away from the man who both knew was a crack shot.

"I'll check on you soon, Mr. Watson." Mycroft stated, before heading to the stairs.

"Thank you _so very much _for your concern, Mycroft, but I think we'll be fine for another two weeks on our own, yeah?"

Mycroft didn't reply, just made a displeased sound as he made his way down the stairs. Lestrade waved goodbye as he closed the door and left for the streets.

John slammed the door and leaned up against it, glaring at the cup of tea on the counter that had been so rudely interrupted.

Sighing, he straightened up and made his way to the hall, stopping to knock on Sherlock's door.

"Do you want a cup of tea?" he asked hopefully.

"No." Sherlock's ever blunt reply came to him, muffled by the door. John's shoulders slumped and his wings hung in defeat from his back.

"Okay, I'll just-"

"I overheard your conversation with that... woman." Sherlock's tone sounding annoyed.

"Yes, okay. And?" John's usual _its my life get lost _attitude had been abandoned about two and a half days ago.

"I thought you didn't like her. Said she was just looking to... 'hook up'." John could almost hear the air quotes through the door when Sherlock said that last part.

"Yeah. Well, I changed my mind about her." John cringed inwardly at what he had just said.

"Remember what I said about her?"

John rolled his eyes. "Yes, Sherlock, remember what you said about her. You said that she was a 'tramp that didn't want me but my body,' and you also added that she was very interested in the idea of a three way involving both of us." _Which was sounding mighty nice at the moment._

"I haven't changed my mind about her." Sherlock mumbled, his tone childlike. "Can you stay home instead of going out? I'm not feeling well." His voice was faint, and John wasn't sure but he was pretty sure he heard a trace of pleading in the under-layers of Sherlock's tone.

"Sherlock..." John paused, his hand moving toward the doorknob. "I'm coming in, okay?"

"I thought I was confined to my room by orders of my idiotic brother?"

"Did he say anything about not allowing me in said room?" John sighed.

A pause came, and then Sherlock threw something at the door. "Its unlocked." Sherlock grunted.

Shaking his head, he turned the knob and entered the room. It was as cluttered as the kitchen used to be until Sherlock was confined to his room. John had quickly cleaned the whole house when he got the chance, shoving Sherlock's belongings near the consulting detective's room's door. It had all disappeared in the night, into Sherlock's room. Needless to say it was a rather huge mess in his room.

Sherlock was laying face down in his cluttered bed, his head buried in sheets.

He actually had clothes on, which surprised John. But it wasn't much; pants and a loose shirt. trousers were nowhere to be seen, the clutter and test tubes covering all evidence that he ever had a closet with clothes inside.

"Sherlock," John started, but was cut off when Sherlock flung his hand up limply, trying to put his palm up in John's direction.

"Shut up. Don't talk." Sherlock groaned.

John set his jaw and folded his arms across his chest, trying not to breathe in much air. "Sherlock..."

"John, didn't I just say to shut up?" Sherlock hissed.

John raised his eyebrow at Sherlock as he got up, his hair a mess of unkept curls. "John, I know this is terribly blunt, and I know you _hate _terribly blunt, and I know it annoys you so much when I'm _being_ terribly blunt—"

"Spit it out, Sherlock." John sighed.

Sherlock sucked in a breath, his shoulders tensing. "I'm not going to get out of this Sarga anytime soon, at least not without... well..." he gestured to his bed. "Having sexual intercourse with someone."

John's eyebrows shot higher up his head. "Your pulling my leg."

"I never pull your leg, John." Sherlock sounded tired. He slumped slightly into his covers, his eyes glossed over.

John sighed, unconsciously coming closer to the bed. "Okay, so what do we do? Wait—I know for sure you have a line of woman just _waiting_ for you—"

"John, I'm not in heat for _them_." Sherlock groaned, flopping back into the bed childishly, exasperated. "It wouldn't work if I just shagged the closest fling."

"Oh... then we have to find the person your I heat for?" John's eyebrows furrowed. He couldnt think of anyone that Sherlock whole have interest in... besides Irene. And he know that Irene was... well, dead.

"No, John, we don't have to _find him!_" Sherlock was getting inpatient. "John, bloody _hell_, its _you. _ You, a thick sculled idiot with a tumble weed for a brain, you, you, _you_, YOU!" John stared in surprise while Sherlock went on. "You'd think it was obvious by now! Even Mycroft knows! Why do you have to be so... so..." Sherlock turned around, burying his head in the sheets, but not before John saw the look of hurt in Sherlock's face.

John stood, his back ramrod straight, eyes wide, staring at Sherlock in utter shock.

Minutes flew by and Sherlock started to shake in the covers, his shoulders trying to stay rigid but still moved enough to give away that he was crying. John tried to sort things out in his mind, biting the inside of his mouth.

He finally got words out of his mouth, even if it was in a squeaky whisper. "Your in heat for me?" He cleared his throat, looking as if he was still processing it.

"Yes, John, for gods sake, that's what I said." Sherlock's voice still had a faint tremor in it.

"So your.. gay then?"

Sherlock whipped around to glare at the army doctor. "_That's_ what you get out of all this?" He snapped, getting up and out of the bed, stalking toward him. "You think this is a_ joke_? You think I care about your_ gender_? Bloody hell, before you came round, I wouldn't be like this," he spat. "You make me _soft_, and _vulnerable_. People look at you and see my weakness, John! And you know what? Their right! I can't go one minute on a case without worrying of someone will snatch you up or kill you or torture you or _take you away from me_. You and you _voice of reason_, messing me up and altering my routine and making me _slow_, an easy target. And you know the worst part of it? The absolute thing that gets under my skin and digs around and kills me over and over? _I don't care._" He was now right in front of John. He grabbed the man's upper arms and shook him. "I don't care! Don't you see? You make me easy to pick out, to get _rid _of—everything I've been working on my whole life to _prevent_—and you just_ limp in and take that all away from me_!" His chest heaved as he breathed in quick breaths of air. "And I try—I try so _hard_, so many _times_—to be _mad_, to get _angry_, but then you walk in with your jumpers and tea and loyalty and unnecessary exclamations of how bloody brilliant I am and I _can't_—I just _am not capable of_—getting angry with you!" his wings unfurled and knocked over some of his experiments but he ignored the crashes and sounds of breaking glass to shake john once more. "And you are so dense, so bloody _thick_, and it drives me crazy, but its not enough to get me to hate you." he released John and visibly slumped, dropping his hands and letting them swing at his sides.

John stared at him, the shock fading from his eyes. He knew if he thought about this too much that he would double, triple think his actions. So he let his body decide.

His hands reached up and sought out the other man's dark curls, rooting his fingers within them, and tugging a very surprised Sherlock into a very unexpected kiss.

8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8

**Alright! Another chapter done. Whew. I was suffering some pretty crappy writers block for this story. I'm sorry about the long wait.**

**Once I started writing the last part, I got really into the way John had just showed up and pretty much trampled everything Sherlock had worked to perfect. He had had the perfect life for his job—just himself. And then suddenly this short, gruff but proper army doctor just walks in, and he keeps Sherlock busy pretty much _babysitting_. But he cant let him go, not anymore, because without John, Sherlock wouldn't be Sherlock anymore, just a shell, like he was before. Without John's guidance and simple mind, without his loyalty and love, without his remarks and exclamations, where would Sherlock be?**

**Think about it.**


	7. Information--Sorry, Not a Chapter!

Sorry, this is not a chapter, but _**please read this anyways**_, its vital to understanding the next chapters!

When I first started this fic, I honestly thought it was going to be just a slow built up to the end—sex—but then I got a little more invested in it, and it bugged me how freaking simplistic it was.

Just—what, angels and demons? Thats it? No explanation, no complete differences in species, nothing?

It nagged at me until I sat down and started to write about them. Traditions, anatomy, rituals, how they go about life. So for now on, these things will be threaded within my story. I'll try not to _cram_ it in forcefully, I swear.

Please note, Doms and Subs can be both male and female, and there are some that do not have any sort of gender, known in the human world as hermaphrodites. In alpha/omega worlds, they are usually seen as betas. In this universe, they are known as neutrals. They are unable to breed, and long ago they used to be the ones that helped raise the children and hunt, and most were "midwives". Lots of neutrals bond with submissives, in a way that may seem like a mating bond but is in fact the natural response from their ancestors, who had a complicated relationship system. In this system, there were three people in a "relationship", a dom, sub and neutral. The dom hunted and protected, the sub made food and children, and to balance both out, the neutral helped both.

Not many neutrals are in the angel population anymore, but some demons still have three-way relationships, known as a tri-mating bond. And just to let you guys know, yes, neutrals can be part of the mating process. Tri-mating bonds are known as old school, but are not seen as weird or gross.

_**Angels**_

_**Anatomy: **_

_Submissives:_ self lubricating. Can top, but its more pleasurable to be the bottom. Some can bear children, others can not. Feathers are more downy, their walk known to be more feminine. They go into heat every month. *dominants that have changed to submissives are not as fertile, and some are not even able to have children.*

_Dominants: _more aggressive, but gentle to their mates. Due to mating and evolution, dominants can actually become submissives, if mated as the bottom by another dominant. This enables the angels to reproduce better, because submissives are rarer and harder to find. Deep within them, right next to their prostate, is a small gland that if exposed to semen, sends signals to the rest of the body to change. Some dominants are "pure", and do not have this gland, but about 70% of dominants have it these days.

_**Traditions: **_most traditions have died out, but the one that has held strong is Iungo Day, which takes place on the first day of spring, celebrating the start of the mating season.

_**Rituals:**_ Wing grooming and monthly "purifying", which takes place after heat.

_**Demons:**_

_**Anatomy:**_

_Submissives: _about 70% of the demon population consists of subs. Subs are self lubricating, and prefer to be topped. They are known as rough, demanding and make great bosses because they want stuff done and done now. Unlike the gentle nature that is depicted by most fandoms, submissives within the demon side are aggressive and possessive. This is because demon children are hard to handle, and they have to protect the home. They are more tame tempered if they are within a tri-mating relationship. They go into heat, or Sarga, every two months. Their tails are small and not much use.

_Dominants:_ aggressive but tame, demon doms are known to be sweet and protective, but wild and rough as hell in bed. They become aggressive and possessive only when their family or friends are in trouble. Now, before you excuse that as something you don't like, I have a reason why I made them less aggressive. When they first evolved, doms were aggressive and angry. But that caused problems. If they got too jealous, they would kill their mate. If two doms got in a fight, they would kill each other. Soon the only doms left to breed were the more docile, calm types. But if threatened, they become a fighting machine. They are in no way meek. Their tails are long and muscled, and are used in mating sometimes. Scent glands are on the tail, and scenting consists of rubbing their tail on their mate. They prefer tri-mating relationships.

_**Traditions:**_ _Hierty_, a day that celebrates the loved ones one has lost. _Wensdia, _a day of harmony (where you go back to all the others who you have wronged in one way of another and made your sorrow for your actions clear.

_**Rituals:**_ wing and tail grooming.

_**You can use this sort of template if you'd like, for you're stories. I don't really mind. Also, mine's not perfect, and I'd actually rather you tweak it slightly, to fit your uses.**_


	8. In response to a conserned Review

Hey, this is just a quick reply to a Review that popped up.

No, Sherlock is not a submissive. If you read what I had written down, he is quite clearly an alpha. _**Both**__ alpha and Submissive demons __**go into heat.**_

And who ever said it was going to involve an OC...? I would have warned you guys about that in the description, wouldn't I? I have made it clear that it is a bottom!John, and a top!Sherlock story. To make the world more deep, I have added the neutrals within the mix, but never said I'd use them within the JohnLock pairing.

Plus, **_(_****Don't****_ read the text under this warning if you don't want _****spoilers!****_)_**

I have decided that John, as a character, is not a submissive. Or at least, not a _born_ submissive. Smut comes next chapter, and it will be very clear that Sherlock is the dominant within the bedroom. As you may have read in the information I wrote out about the angels, _some dominants can become submissives._ Please, please rap your head around this. John will, (true to his character) not go down without fighting Sherlock about the roles, but he will finally give in.

And unless a large number of you want mpreg, there will be none.

Now, I shall write the next chapter. Can you guys sit tight for a few more days?


	9. Ignoring the Hurtles All Together

At first, Sherlock couldn't move. And then he breathed in John's scent, and he opened his mouth to taste the object of his desires.

It almost physically hurt to have his tongue in his mouth, the very thing he refused his body for such a long time. The heat flared, and John sighed, pulling back.

"This is going to be a struggle." He stated bluntly. And the look on Sherlock's face told him he understood what he was referencing to.

Sherlock was a demon, and demon anatomy was different then angel anatomy. While all demons—dominant and submissive—go into heat, or Sarga, only submissive angels went through heats. So John, being a dominant angel, had no desire to be fucked. And Sherlock was also a dominant, but a more erratic and forceful because of his heat.

Which resulted in a battle of the top.

Sherlock slid John's jumper off, while John unbuckled his own belt and slid his trousers off. Sherlock's clothes were easily discarded, and John moved to push the tall man down—only to be flipped over and pinned down into the sheets. John let out an angry growl, and Sherlock's own rumble left his chest as John turned around, his wings spread in annoyance, feathers fluffed out in a dominant gesture, baring his teeth. John flipped Sherlock over on his back, straddling him with his wings spreading out to show he was the boss.

Of course Sherlock ignored that and bucked up, poking his erection into the angel's buttocks and almost right on his hole. Sherlock's nostrils flared and he let out a half-bark-half-growl, a sound distinctly something a demon dominant would make. John's eyes narrowed and he hissed, his hand flying out as he smacked Sherlock across the face.

If they had been human, that would have been regarded as too rough. But with demons, and some angels, that was _just_ the right thing to do. If you wanted to get a dick shoved up your ass, that is.

Sherlock growled, showing his teeth and snapping at the angel on top of him, bucking up again. John's eyes widened as the demon's erection hit his hole roughly. "Bloody prick." He growled out, flashing his teeth at the demon. Sherlock rolled them so John was right beneath him.

"John, just let me _fuck_ you." Sherlock hissed aggressively, dragging John's defiant body closer down so he could line himself up.

"No," the angel groaned, snapping his teeth at him, struggling with the demon and freezing when he felt Sherlock's dick press up against his hole in warning.

"Oh for bloody fuck's sake, John," Sherlock bit out, "I don't want to have to force myself in you, that's not right! But I'm going to have to at this point." He rubbed his head on John's protesting hole.

"No," John wheezed out, eyes suddenly going wide as his expression shifted from defiance to terror.

Sherlock's gaze softened, if only slightly. "Beg for me, John," he purred.

"N-" His hands shot down, to cover his ass. "You of all people know what happens to angel's like me if their fucked like this!"

"Hmmmhmm." Sherlock gave a deep throaty chuckle and nuzzled John's neck, nipping at the flesh there.

"Sherlock," John sounded choked. "I-"

Sherlock chose that moment right then to shove his fingers into John's mouth. John let out a tiny rumble, his eyes flashing with surprise. A spark of lust caught wind of his need and it was only so long until his desire caught fire. He usually was the nice, humble type in bed—but not all vanilla. Some leather occasionally worked its way into the bedroom. But he was always on top, always the one to be begged_ at_, always the one to hear the sweet sounds wafting up from below. He expected his body to reject Sherlock's advances, to shut down and refuse.

Of course, his body decided to do the opposite. John groaned inwardly in annoyance when the rough gesture of having Sherlock's fingers being shoved within his mouth caused his body to arch up and his hands move ever so slightly out of the way.

Sherlock nipped his earlobe and slid his fingers out of his mouth, strings of his saliva hanging from his tongue and Sherlock's fingers. "I hate you," he wheezed out once his mouth was free.

Sherlock chuckled, leaning over him. "I've been told I am quite hateable." He agreed.

John let out a choked breath when he felt Sherlock's slick middle finger bypass the resistant rim of his hole. "N-no! _Sherlock!_ Stop!" The words never seemed to reach the demon. John's eyes widened when he felt a second long finger push its way past into him. His eyelids lowered when Sherlock stopped pushing his fingers in when they were about halfway inside.

"Just..." Sherlock pinned him down when he saw John get ready to struggle. "Let me..." his fingers slowly went in deeper and deeper, "find it."

Sherlock's long middle finger brushed his gland, making John's eyes open again and his hips buck up. Sherlock's eyes lit up and John let out a whine that sounded foreign to his own ears.

This was not happening.

John was a proper angel from the military. He was not in small ranks, either. He was not known to be soft, or particularly needy, or overly friendly. He was an alpha. Through and through. All the way to the bone.

Nevermind the huge alpha demon looming over him with his three long fingers shoved up his ass and the fact that he was starting to keen in a very submissive, very un-alpha way.

John groaned and made one last and very weak attempt to pull away from the demon's fingers, and Sherlock pressed his middle finger right smack-dab in the middle of his prostate.

"Holy bloody _fuck_," John yelped out in surprise. His hips bucked and Sherlock's fingers refused to stop moving, brushing up against both his gland and his prostate.

Sherlock made an unexpected move and pulled his fingers out, reaching over and under the bed. John didn't pay much attention, staring up at the ceiling in a small fading daze. He knew a few changed submissives. They usually kept to themselves, but always seemed to be alright blokes. He wondered halfheartedly if the change would be painful.

He blinked, horrified. What, he was already accepting this? Like he had no other choice?_ Fuck tha—_

Something slick and hard pressed up against his ass and he looked down in surprise, confused at first by what he saw. Well, that was unexpected. He was expecting it to be Sherlock's dick, but instead it was his tail. He was about to protest, but Sherlock shushed him, leaning down and kissing him with deep hunger. John's legs lifted up unconsciously, inviting his tail past John's rim and deep inside.

"John." Sherlock purred, his tail slowly going deeper into his channel.

"Wh... what?" John groaned, his eyes fluttering as Sherlock's tail slid right on his prostate.

"I think you're tea's cold," he whispered into the angel's ear, cold breath ghosting over John's neck.

John whimpered. "Oh, _god_." Sherlock snaked his hands up and caressed John's feathers, smiling at the keening sound that it extracted from the angel.

"I'm going to move my tail now," Sherlock whispered lightly, a slight slur to his words.

"...ease." John's faint voice cracked; his eyes were closed and his eyebrows raised to meet in the middle, his back arched.

Sherlock paused, cocking his head to the side and leaning in, his breath brushing featherlight onto John's cheek.

"What was that?"

"...ugh..." John winced when he recognized Sherlock's tone. It was the voice he used when he heard something, finally, that he wanted to hear. "Pl..." he paused to gasp as the tip of Sherlock's tail started to move, "ease! _Please!_"

"Hmmmm. Thats what I like to hear," Sherlock purred, and began to move his tail, thrusting out and back in, almost roughly.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. -.-.-.-.-.-

**I'm really sorry it took so long, it's just... smut takes longer for me. I have to be in the right mood, it has to be the right time (half of this was typed while sitting awkwardly next to my dad on the couch trying to shield my screen from his suspicious eyes), and I have other things also to worry about (I'm trying to sign up for online school, but it's taking longer than I originally thought.) THANK YOU, so much, for stickin' with me! I hope this is satisfactory, for now. I'll try my best to update quickly. **

**Comments? Questions? I will likely be posting answers if you need them; about the world, angels, demons, changed submissives, and, if you guys are interested, mpreg. I don't usually write mpreg, but I was PMed about it by a reader, who was interested and wanted it to be integrated into the story.**

**I would love feedback, it motivates me more than you think. :)**

**thanks,**

**Zera Henna.**


	10. Answers To Questions

Alright! Hello, dear readers!

I am here to answer some questions! :)

_**Patricia Sage asked:**_

**The question I have is for your universe. You said that angels and demons and humans coexist and have romantic relations (except there is an underlying possibility of some racism in the society), but it is common/accepted for angels and demons to mate? Are there children that are a mix of those races and, if so, are they accepted? I'm really intrigued by this world you made! It's very creative.**

_Oh, this is a good question. No, it is not entirely common. It's just like in this world, where it is _more accepted to be gay in larger cities and/or states/areas/countries with less history of hate-driven crimes, _angel/demon relationships are less accepted in smaller towns and in the country, but accepted more within larger communities. There is also the other extreme, where there are activist communities that see angel/demon mating as sacred and the more modern way to go about things. I would say 1 out of 20 relationships are angel/demon, which is actually pretty high. And about 1/50 relationships are angel/demon/demon, while 1/90 relationships are angel/angel/demon._

_Yes, they can mate, and the children come out as a mix. But just like in our world, where_ "white" and "black"_ (ugh I hate using these terms, it seems to offensive, I apologize,)_ parents can have a child that will have skin that could be very dark, or very light, or in between. _In other words, in this universe, its not a set thing—they could or could not have a tail, light or dark wings (or a mix); or, they could have a tail, but it has no scent glands, or it is smaller than the usual tail size. Some can look like a perfect balance, while others can look more like one of their parents' species. Think of it as rolling dice, where you can roll one of the dice and get one solid answer, (dark wings), or you can roll both dice and get a more mixed answer (tan wings)._

_And also, thank you very much! I'm working hard to make it more believable. _

_**TheGuardiansOfTheFishbowl asked:**_

**Will the change from Alpha to Submissive take long? Or is it like a right then and there kinda thing? John will be going into heat afterward? Not directly but somewhere along the line right?  
Sorry for the 20 Questions.**

_Man, you guys have good questions!_

_Well, it takes time, yes. I was thinking about a month for the big changes, while it continues to level out for three months afterwords. The first heat is about a month and a half after the mating that caused the change. __Heat __can happen prematurely if triggered early (by their alpha going into heat [if the alpha is a demon], or a stressful experience, shock, or __you can__ force the heat with an illegal black-market drug called _**T****ilskynde**_[the word means encourage in Danish, _**Tils **_for short.]_

_And don't worry! The more questions, the happier I am!_

So about the Mpreg. I have been receiving mixed signals. (To tell you the truth, I've gotten more yes's than no's, but hey, I'm gonna be fair you all!)

And so, I have decided to make a **separate fic with a different ending. **When it gets close, I will post the fic's name so the people who want it, got it. It will not have too many chapters (three at the most,) but it will have Mpreg.

As for the chapter in progress, I need some time to think about what will happen. Smut takes longer for me because I'm very picky. I try and refrain from repeating words over and over (I swear so may fics over-use the word "gasp" and it drives me bonkers), and I really dislike the word "cock." So. Get used to the words "dick" and "member." And also, I need to incorporate the kick start of the change from alpha to submissive, which will be tricky. **In other words, please be patient. **

**If any of you use this AU in a fic, please tell me! I would love to read 'em all! :)**

**-**Zera Henna


	11. Forget the Race

John didn't know what to do. One second he had Sherlock's tail up his ass, the next he had his dick shoved roughly into him. He cried out, almost frantic, but Sherlock's hand snaked around his head and covered his mouth.

And then he thrust in. Hard.

On the second thrust, he hit his prostate. And his gland.

Wide eyed, he breathed out a choked silent moan, opening his mouth wide as he arched his back. _Holy shit._

He knew the starting of the transformation had been evolved over the years, making it so the body full-heartedly encouraged the process. Every single movement was amplified a hundred times. His brain ceased to function, the only thought in his brain was one word: _mate._ Throwing his head back and tilting his bum up for better access, his eyes rolled up as he accepted every single rough thrust with a low mating keen.

Sherlock paused, moving his hand to John's hair and taking as much hold on it as he could, pulling his head back further with a rough manner. He was slightly surprised by the response he got; John hissed and slammed his ass against his dick, grinding down on it until it was as deep into his entrance as the position allowed.

Sherlock leaned in. "You're a wild animal, aren't you?" Sherlock growled in John's ear.

"Nnn... yesss..." John choked out, his eyes fluttering as his gland was hit against over and over. "mmmoorreee..." he purred, his whole act from before suddenly flipped around. He saw no reason in his current state of bliss to stop. He could care less about the change that was fast approaching, as long as he got this pleasure. It was like a high, better than any drug. His whole body rocked into the pillows, his head held back by the short strands of hair clenched in Sherlock's fist.

"Move your leg up, you _horut_." Sherlock hissed.

John gasped at the use of the demon word and quickly obeyed, shifting to move his leg up. Sherlock grasped John's ankle and without pulling out, flipped him on his back.

"You like that, huh?" Sherlock growled, continuously hitting John's now swollen gland. "Being called such a _filthy word..._ you're kinky, aren't you?" He smiled, opening his mouth and guiding John's foot to his mouth to lick his big toe.

John shivered, ready to explode. It was just too much. Every single hit on his gland, every single touch to his body, every single word Sherlock muttered with an alpha rumble... It was going to drive John insane.

"Come on, _horut_," Sherlock ground out aggressively, "Cum."

John didn't need to be given permission twice.

He howled, back arching up from the mattress, his dick and mind pulsing with hot, wet arousal. Sherlock groaned, his mind, for the first time, drawing a blank. John's insides pulsed around his dick, milking every last drop of cum he spurted into his mate.

John's eyes flew open as his gland came in contact with Sherlock's cum, inhaling sharply.

His body had begun the change.

8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8- 8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8

**I really do apologize for the long wait.**

**John will experience pains, aches and migraines for about a month and a half now. This is normal for a changing Alpha-to-Submissive.**

**questions? comments?**

**also, what would you like to happen within this story?**

**please R&R. No comment will be left unanswered!**


	12. Questions Answered, Information Given

**Aiamcupid asked:**

**Oh and question by changes will he like turn in to a girl or something or is it more ... Just turn submisive like? Will he still be John and still be able to tell off Sherlock when he needs to? **

_No, silly! He will grown the necessary organs to produce and give birth to a baby, of course, but besides that, everything is normal! I promised to stay true to his character and I plan on sticking to it, so outside of the bedroom, John will be his usual self. He'll still yell and worry and pout as-per-usual. His body has changed, as well as his hormones, so that will affect _some _of his actions, as you will see later on. But, since he has been an Alpha all his life, his mental state will always be more Alpha. All Alpha, to be honest, except when he has a tail or dick up his ass._

_Hahaa. Ah. Yes. Okay, next question..._

**TheGuardian'sOfTheFishbowl****asked:**

**Is this an Mpreg story? Any chance we can hope for details on the history of this treaty between species? I love a good detailed history story  
Hopefully this isn't asking for too much  
Well I any case, I do adore this story even tho it isn't too far in but I can already tell this going to be [a] beauty.**

_Well, I really have no idea! I need to write his change, then his first heat. By then I might know if a baby is coming into the picture._

_Ohhh... _history_. That sounds fun. I always love writing backgrounds. What do you think, should I write it like it's from a school textbook or shout I try to integrate it into the story, little by little? Lets see... maybe a case involving it somehow? You guys need to help me decide! Post your answers/ideas **or** PM me!_

_I am so thankful to all of you, for being so awesome and sticking to my story even though my posting time lapses are quite rocky at best. I sort of loose interest, or just never know what to write next. Plus my life is really weird right now. I'm kinda stuck in limbo._

_If you want to motivate me, or give me ideas, or *_you can even ask me to write a short, one-to-two chapter fic for you* (I wont mind—in fact, I'd be delighted!)_ PM me or, better yet, ask me on Tumblr. My Tumblr is _**youdonthavethisurlido . tumblr . com !**

_Also, I am happy to announce that me and my friends have pooled our ideas to bring you guys and many others _a **prompt blog,**_ where prompts for any sort of fic are posted almost daily! please follow us! The tumblr is _**ficstarters . tumblr . com ! **

_**thank you, **_

_**~Zera Henna**_

_*please do this guys. I need to write the next chapter to this fic but before I do I need to write something else, something to clear my thoughts so I can look at this story with a clear mind! Send me what you want me to write, I beg of you!_


	13. The Impossible Loophole

8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8 _The next day _8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8

John stared blankly at the wall, his arms wrapped tightly around himself. He sat curled upon his chair, his toes curled under, as if he was trying to to retreat into himself.

He cringed as another wave of pain hit his abdomen. He tried halfheartedly to buckle into himself, but he was already as tightly held into himself as he could ever get, and he knew it.

The sound of clattering china caught his attention and he turned his head to the sound. Sherlock stood bent over a cup of tea. He quickly stood up straight, glancing at John from the corner of his eye and shuffling to his chair.

"It's for the change... I looked up best ways to help cope, and this tea seemed the most suitable." Sherlock explained, then swiftly sat down to stare at the crackling fire.

"Damage control, huh?" John snapped, the mixture of changing hormones and pain causing him to be more quick at shoving Sherlock off.

Sherlock was silent, and John glanced at him, wondering if he had slipped back into his mind.

His eyes were bright and alert, mostly focused on the fireplace, but seemed to flick towards John only slightly, as if to look at him from the corner of his eye.

John unraveled himself slowly and reached for the tea, lifting the cup from the elegant cradle.

John paused his arm that was directing the cup to his mouth.

"I don't remember this tea set." He said slowly, looking at the gold rims and fine details and swirls on the cup he had been served. The saucer matched, part of a set.

Sherlock opened his mouth, but hesitated. He bit his lip slightly and fidgeted with his vest."You wouldn't. They were my mother's." Sherlock replied quickly, still avoiding eye contact.

"Your mother's?" John said, surprise coloring his tone. He shifted his body so he could move the cup closer to his face, examining the hand-painted gold design. "They are quite... expensive looking. Sherlock, how old are these?"

"They were found in 1832," Sherlock answered, now staring at the mantle. "By a great-great-great uncle or something. Not really of importance, John," he shrugged. "They are just objects."

"They must be worth a fortune," John breathed, eying the cup before him. He slowly lifted the cup to his lips, taking a sip. John smiled slightly as the warmth hit his throat and trickled down comfortably to pool in his middle. It tasted delicious. John wondered where Sherlock got such a remedy.

"About 66258.18 pounds exactly." Sherlock sounded uninterested, with an undercurrent in his voice that John didn't have time to figure out.

He almost spat out his tea."_What?!_"

"Well to be honest we had to go to America to find out how much they were worth... I think they said 100,300 in US currency?" Sherlock mused.

"Sherlock, for gods sake, why do you even have this out, or even in the flat?"

Sherlock looked at him then, confusion evident on his face. "Don't you like it?"

"Well, yes, Sherlock, but if I had a tea set that was this expensive, I wouldn't even let it catch air of this flat." John sounded annoyed.

"Oh, no, John. The cost I gave you wasn't the whole set. I was talking about the cup and saucer. The set is worth—"

"Le me just stop you right there, Sherlock." John sighed, rubbing his face and sliding his feet out from under him to draw them up in front of him. Silence lasted for about ten minutes after that, the sounds of the fire burning and their combined breathing were the only stirs in the sound barrier in the whole flat. A slow dull pain had been working up John's side ever since he had reached for the cup, and he grimaced when it blossomed into a sharp pang near where his womb was now growing.

He sighed, setting the cup down on its cradle and sitting back, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees.

A few more minutes past before John finally spoke.

"Is this your way of saying sorry?" John wondered aloud.

Sherlock shifted to look elsewhere, but the act gave him away.

"I don't want to have you getting expensive items for me, Sherlock." He sighed, releasing a hand from one of his legs to rub his face tiredly. "The last thing I need is _things_."

"What else it there, then, that you would want?" Sherlock asked, still looking away.

"The one thing you are worst at, Sherlock." John whispered, "but you already knew that."

Sherlock breathed out, almost seeming defeated.

"Sentiment," he breathed almost to himself, in dismay. "You need sentiment."

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**Woah, now! A new chapter? Already?**

**Yeah, had some spare time and ideas bumping around in my head.**

**Tell me how I did?**


	14. Falling Over a You

It had been a few days until the pain became bearable enough to get out and about, and a week and a half before his body started to slow down and take its time growing its new "female" organs. Sherlock seemed only slightly phazed, which angered John to no end.

His fucking body was changing, because of this git, and all he did was stare into his microscope and grunt replies to John's questions?

John was _so_ depriving him of sex the next time the demon went into heat.

He got his coat and wallet, slipping his hands through the sleeves of the jacket and jamming the wallet down his back pocket.

"I'm going out."

"Obviously."

"Fuck you, Sherlock." John growled, lurching the door open and slamming it shut, stomping down the stairs.

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Sherlock flung his coat on and wrapped his scarf around his neck, breezing out of the building. He briskly made his way to a small coffee shop and slid into the metal chairs facing a man staring at the menu with slight dislike.

"Dear brother, why did you call me to this..." he looked around distastefully, "...establishment so late into the day? You know I have—"

"Shut up, Mycroft." Sherlock weazed, bringing his elbows done on the table with quite a lot of force. He brought his hands to his face and hid his wild eyes.

"Sherlock, you look absolutely dreadful." Mycroft's usual calm and calculating facade was gone, his voice filled with brotherly worry.

"I take it you know of John's... current state." Sherlock breathed out roughly.

Mycroft blinked. "He's been under the weather, or so have my sources tell me."

Sherlock looked up, a pained expression on his face. His arms dropped from his face and the table, drooping to his sides. "Well then, get better sources. I... Mycroft, When I was in heat, I couldn't think. I didn't expect it to affect him, but somehow it did. And we... Mycroft, I _changed him_."

Mycroft looked taken aback. "You made him your mate?" He made it sound more of a demand.

"No." Sherlock breathed. Mycroft's face and body relaxed slightly. "Not yet."

"Sherlock..." Mycroft said in a warning tone.

"I already made him a submissive, Mycroft." Sherlock snapped. "It doesn't help that my body knows that I did it. Every single molecule of my being screams at me every single second of the day to... to mate him, to make him mine. I've been horrible to him to try and stop myself, but that only makes it worse." He shook his head angrily. "I've buried everything, Mycroft. Buried all my instincts, my needs, my impulses. I've locked away my _uutra_ for so long and then it just..." he leaned back, his voice breaking. "...exploded in my face. In one single go. Last week, when he was... better, I brought him on a case. And he ignored me, of course, he's stubborn, but then he started talking to a victim, a dominant angel, and I just..."

Mycroft shifted closer, worry on his face. "You didn't do anything rash, brother, did you?"

"He was making a pass at John. And then... John brushed him off."

Mycroft groaned, nodding. "_Dether_."

"It was intoxicating, Mycroft. I could hardily breathe." Sherlock hissed. "I knew it was irrational and obviously not what John was meaning to do... but.. but I just felt so damn happy and proud and it was so stupid—"

"Sherlock." Mycroft cut him off. Sherlock looked up at him. "You need to show him this." He said sternly. "He does not know you are suffering. He does not know how much you... you _care._"

Sherlock looked perplexed. "But.. that... you know I can't do that. Sentiment, Mycroft, it not my area."

"What would you do if there was a gun pointed at John, and the only thing that could save him was that you jumped off a building?" Mycroft snapped. "What would you do?"

"I would over power the gunma—"

"Its a sniper," Mycroft interjected, sounding annoyed. "And you have thirty seconds."

Sherlock didn't even blink. "I would jump off the building."

"Ah." Sherlock watched as his brother got up and dusted off his suit, his umbrella hanging from his arm. A black unmarked car slid up next to him on the street, idling as he turned back to eye Sherlock. "Sentiment, Sherlock, is not your area of expertise. But I'm pretty sure John is." He then climbed smoothly into the car and shit the door.

It rode off, leaving Sherlock sitting with a look of annoyance and worry on his face.


	15. Dictionary

_**Demon/Angel commonly used Vocabulary**_

Horut. (hor-rut.)

**1.** **Used by mates of the ****D****emon species.** Meaning "_Slut, Whore, Hoe", it is __an endearing and kinky word to call your lover._

Horet. (hor-et)

**1.** **Used by ****Demons and Angels.**Meaning _"Slut, Whore, Hoe, Tool, Lowest of the Low."_ **2.** _An insult. _**3.** _A person who sells their body for money._ **4.** _A sex slave._

Uutra. (ew-trah)

**1. **_**Demon's**__ sexual drive._ **2.** _Sexual needs and urges. _**3.** _Can be used to describe the need to claim another as their mate._

Dether. (deh-ther)

**1.** _A strong complex emotion __**Demons and Angel's**__ experience when their mate or potential mate displays an act or notion toward another (stranger, friend, family member) that shows their love and devotion for their them._ Examples are: declining or turning down another potential mate, doing something for another that h/s/n would have done themselves, saying something h/s/n would have said themselves.

Sarga. (sar-guh)

**1.** _**Demon**__ heat._ **2.** _The act of a __**demon**__ being in heat._

H/S/N

**1.** _An abbreviation for He/She/Neutral._

Bethin. (beh-then)

**1.** _**Demon**__ word for "Beloved, Love, Mate, Lover"._

Atrine. (ah-ter-ine.)

**1.** _**Angel**__ word for "Beloved, Love, Mate, Lover, 'Honey'".___**2.** _Pet name for an __**angel's**__ lover or mate(s)._

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_**Different words explaining relationships**_

A Dator (dah-tear) is a mate whom is dominate. Example: "Jason, my dator, likes to watch movies at night..."

A Saen (see-en) is a mate whom is submissive. Example: "This is Hail, my saen.."

A Nexe (nee-eeck) is a mate whom is neutral. Example: "My nexe, Suzan, did this really funny thing the other day.."

**Some prefer to not use these, while others do not care. Calling someone your "_Saen_" is not seen as an insult. Its just as if you said "this is my _husband/wife/partner_, Joe/Jane."**

**Although, saying "this is my submissive, Joe/Jane," is seen as an insult and only used when either angry at your mate or if you belong to a radical society that sees submissives as lower than Dominates. It is sort of like how in English saying "That woman was nice" is somewhat rude, disrespectful and alarming instead of "That lady was nice" which is much less rude and gives the "lady" some respect and paints a nicer image in our heads subconsciously. **


	16. Break from the Race

John had stalked off to the only place he knew was going to ever calm him down.

He slammed his body down onto the bench, glowering at the grassy expanse disrupted by a handful of trees. The park was mostly deserted, a few people walking or playing fetch with their dogs. He looked up at the gray sky and wished he was in paris.

Yes, paris would be nice.

"John?" A familiar female voice asked. He swiveled his head to glance at the source.

"Aria!" His voice was full of surprise.

To the right of the bench, a brunette female approached him. Her wings were a rare reddish gray and large. The one thing that always caught others attention about her besides her wings was her tail, which was a couple tones lighter than her flight feathers. At the tip of her tail, instead of a spike, was a few sharp-looking feathers.

Aria was one of the very few hybrids, or Demgels, John had ever gotten to befriend in the military.

Of course she had to be her usual self and raise her eyebrows at him while sitting next to him as he scooted over to give her room. "Heard that you've been runnin' around with a sexy demon."

Ah. John missed that. Aria was always quite straight forward. Made her the best commander in his fleet.

"Yeah. His name is Sherlock Holmes."

She looked at him funny, but it slowly morphed into a grin. "So you like him."

"What makes you say that?" John had forgotten until now that when he first met Sherlock, he had intently thought of Aria. Except instead of _"deducting"_, she just _noticed_. Saved his arse once when he had ran out into the battle field to tend to a wounded demon soldier only to be swept back by the demgel's strong grip. He had stared at her like she was insane until she threw an empty clip at the spot he was about to run over, setting off an explosion as she grunted "The ground was even except for right there."

"You're too dazed to even care that you admitted he was hot. Before, you would have sworn up and down and around the world that you _'didn't bloody know he was hot because, for the last time, you were not gay.'_" the way she quoted him and noticed his element was much different than when Sherlock deduced things about John. She made it sound perfectly fine, as if noticing these things made you more interesting and the way she said it made it hard for you to feel annoyed at her for pointing out your faults. Unlike many people, she found that faults were beautiful. She once told him and his fleet that they make you much more interesting than if you were perfect. When he got shot in the shoulder she had told him that it added to the list of things that made him uniquely John Hamish Watson. Needless to say she was very calming and nice to be around.

"I'm growing a womb," he blurted, soaking up all the honesty he could from Aria's presents. "I'm growing a sodding womb and it hurts like bloody hell and I swear to god I will never use it."

"That must suck." John breathed her words in like it was a lifeline. Mostly he hated others being bluntly honest, because, well, it hurt. But the way she formed the words and expressed them was the furthest from judgmental it would ever get. "I was born without one, you know." She mused, leaning her back on the back of the bench. "I'm not trying to steer the conversation away from your obvious dilemma," she added, "just gonna try and give you perspective, if you'd like it." She paused, as if asking for permission.

"You know I don't mind." John breathed, staring up at the sky again as she continued.

"My mom was a stuborn idiot. When I didn't get my period and never did even when I was 18 she refused the thought of her only daughter having no kids in the future. But it's always... a chance that a demgel will be born sterile." She snorted, suddenly. "My brother is. He wanted a kid so bad. But, man, lemme tell you—with that bitch of a wife he has, I'm glad his little guys can't swim far." John rolled his eyes and Aria continued. "But, you know, now I've got Ash and Hailie. And having kids... seems like a really fun and awesome thing. But Ash is my nexe, the poor guy couldn't have kids no matter how much he tried. And Hailie is, like, the only one out of us that's fertile. But that's to be expected. She's a born Submissive." She sighed, exasperated. "look, what I'm trying to say is this—I was born a female, and even if you're an alpha female like me, you are supposed to be fertile. On both ends, if you know what I mean." She bumped John with her elbow, her smile lewd. John sighed, rolling his eyes again. "But I'm not. I cant have kids, neither can I get Hailie to conceive. I'm a genetic dead end." She sounded slightly frustrated. "But look at you!" She smiled, slinging her arm over his shoulders and shaking him gently. "You were born, an alpha. A strong angel who ain't takin' no shit." she patted his shoulder. "But your body can do a wonderful thing. It can change. Make you fertile. While I can't have kids, even though scientifically I should and more than half my kind can, you, an alpha, have the gift of having the ability to change your whole body, to have them. Have a family."

John had never thought of it that way. It had always, in his mind, been a setback. An unmanly thing that was annoying and painful. What was the purpose of going through this crap if he wasn't even going to have kids?

But there it was. Even though he doubted he would ever want a child, even though he would probably would never use this... this womb... he still had the choice. It was always there. He could always choose.

He was lucky.

He started to cry.

"What? Oh, no no no! No crying! Are the hormones kicking in already?!" She chuckled softly, taking him into her arms and rubbing his back as he clung to her shirt.

"Th-th...ank y..ou." he sobbed into her arm. "That was... stran..gly w-what I.. need...ed."

"No problem, you big softy." She said gently. "Hey." He tilted his head to look into her dark hazel eyes. "I'm getting married next week! That's actually why I'm in town. I'd like to invite you to our wedding, if you're free. You've already have met Ash, he was in our troop, but I don't think you've met Hailie." She smiled, patting his back. He shot up, out of her arms, surprised and slightly unbalanced on the bench.

"Married? Congratulations!" tears were still running down his cheeks but a genuine smile broke across his face.

"I'm glad I bumped into you, actually. I got a new phone and all the contacts were gone. I lost you number!"

"Oh! Here, let me..."

They spent a good hour chatting after they echanged phone numbers, talking about Harry and Hanson, her brother. When he asked about Hailie she gushed for a good twenty minutes about her, amusing John as he noted how smitten she was with both of her mates.

When the conversation slid to John and what he had been doing, she listened intently as he described his dealings with crazy manic criminals and the police. He got sort of shy when she asked about how he even got to the point of changing to a submissive, and then ranted for a long twenty-five minutes about how idiotic and insensitive Sherlock was.

They somehow found themselves off the bench and making it down the park path in the direction of Baker Street.

"...and you should have seen him, Air, totally giving me the cold shoulder. He's not the one growing a freaking womb!" he fumed, passing an older angel lady who eyed him with distaste. Some of the older traditionalists thought that male changed submissives were unnatural. On the way to 221B, though, someone yelled from a cab "_Dengi!_" and Aria promptly yelled back "_Horet!_"

John bristled at the racist word the annoying cab rider had called his friend. Who ever yelled that had literally just called Aria a "Filthy being." To the angel's and demgel's delight, the cab pulled over and the driver got out and kicked the rider out, the cabbie yelling about how his mother was a demgel and how much pain he was just about to be in for insulting pretty much everyone on the block. John laughed as the purebred demon fled the cab and ran with his bags as the cab driver yelled harsh demon and angel slurs at the fleeing figure. He then turned to Aria and tilted his hat to her and smiled, getting back into the cab and driving off.

"Ah. I miss London. Where I was just a week ago is dim compared to here. Half the population wouldn't talk to me. Which left about ten people who would. Really tiny town." She sighed.

"Well," John said while stepping up to open the door, "welcome back."

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**Hello all! :D  
**

**I decided a while ago that adding my OC (how you say her name is Ah-ri-ah with a strong "i") would, to me, be a good thing. She adds perspective and spunk (also she helps open up the possibility of Mpreg-hmmm...) and also, trust me, she's the kink master and will be telling John everything he could ever do to please his man. _Oh yeah_.**

**I totally forgot to add info on Alpha females when catorizing them, and that is soooo my bad.**

**So here's some quick trivia on Dom Females:**

**-they have a vagina. duh.**

**-what they have that is different than most females is their own type of sperm. Not all dominate females are fertile, and can not have a kid with themselves. also a duh.-no they do not have a penis. they have a second "hole", and sperm is transfered by either 1. rubbing on V on another V or 2. stickin' your fingers up the Dom's V and then stickin' it up the submissive's V.  
**

**-just like angel male Doms becoming submissives, this is another adaption.**

**Here is the scale from most like a man to most like a woman:**

**Dom male (angel, demon, demgel),**

** (unchanged) Dom male angel*,**

** Dom female (demon, demgel)**,**

**(changed) Sub male angel,**

** Sub male (angel, demon, demgel),**

** Sub Female (angel, demon, demgel),**

**and Neutrals (demons, angels)*****

***Remember that 70% of Dom male angels are able to change to Subs.**

****Angels have not evolved to make female Doms. when demgel's are female Doms that is because their demon traits are stronger than their angel traits.**

*****no known neutrals for demgels. They can be sterile Subs or Doms (like Aria), but they still have the behavior of a Sub/Dom.**

**Also, how you pronounce demgel is Dem-gale, like ginger ale.  
**

**Please Review!**

**-Zera**


	17. The Race is Back On

You know, looking back, John should have noticed it. He was just so wrapped up in the fact that he was growing a womb and doubly confused on the fact that he might even want kids someday.

With Sherlock.

Dear lord.

But with this battle going on in his head, it was just too much. He blanked everything out. He'd worry and fuss in his mind, and once something would pull himself back to reality, he was usually somewhere very far away from where he had been last. Too many times he slowly lifted the fog of fighting uncertainty to find himself looking blankly at a mangled dead body in a crime scene, Sherlock doing his usual dance around the room in silent calculation. Took out his small magnifying glass. Checked his phone. Deduced their lives.

Case solved.

Back home they go.

Repeat.

It was all so very hazy. How had he ended up on the couch? When did he make this tea? What was Sherlock ranting about again?

It was different than if Sherlock had deleted it from his mind palace. Because it was like a thick fog had intruded into his mind and blocked most of it out. But there were snippets that drove John mad. A shoe here. A very small piece of a conversation. Sherlock's sea foam eyes. A deduction or two.

This was no good. It wasn't until Sherlock had asked if he had remembered a conversation they had last night, until it really hit him full in the face like a hard cold slap a barmaid would conduct to keep a deathly drunk man alive.

And he couldn't.

A whole bloody conversation. And he drew a blank.

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Sherlock knew the symptoms when he saw them. John's body was making the final touches on his change, and then was going to proceed jumping straight into heat-mode.

John could form full, coherent sentences and answer questions like he normally would. It was almost like a defense mechanism, and it fascinated Sherlock. He could walk, talk, and act normally. Sherlock was often the only one in the room that noticed that it wasn't exactly John speaking. More like a storage of how to act like John had been tripped and activated. Fascinating. Interesting. Engrossing.

Once or twice Aria had noticed. Okay more than once or twice. Every single time. But she understood. She didn't bring it up.

A file in his mind palace opened up in reaction to the name. Aria. Fascinating woman. Was able to notice things most others would not. Not compulsive like Moriarty. But she had her ways. Close the file. He did not need it right now.

John. Current status: locked up in his own mind. He smelled fantastic. Absolutely lovely. Probably the heat that started to manifest. Ah. It was so faint, trailing where ever John went.

Something impossible sprung up. A thought, from his subconscious.

_Better than cocain._ Highly improbable. But entirely possible.

"Where are we going today? The morgue?" John asked. Sherlock studied the man's eyes swiftly. He was here. He was back. Making tea, of course.

"I was thinking more along the lines of..." he trailed off. Oh, the scent was wonderful. It was getting stronger.

Hot sweaty bodies and cool wet sheets. Deep throaty moans and breathless gasps. Smooth hands traveling up his body, making him shiver even though it felt like 100 degrees. A tongue, tracing a nipple... his nipple. A choked gasp as he was sent into heaven and John slicked their sheets.

Sex.

Oh yes.

"...do you want the honest answer or a dull lie?"

There. John could choose.

"Honest answer." Oh no. the scent was growing stronger.

Sherlock got up and backed the good doctor up against a wall. Dipped down and licked up his shivering neck to his jawline. Mmm. The sweet taste of John. Sherlock needed more.

"Oh, I like this answer." John growled, his heat making it impossible for him to over think his actions. It was all impulse and instincts now.

He bit down on the nape of his neck, expecting a curse or a small halfhearted shove from the blonde. What he didn't expect was the deep throaty sound that ripped through every sense he had ever built up.

John's mating call. It was a mixture of a low moan and a growl and a hum it bordered along savage. It cut through Sherlock's thinking like a knife. It imprinted in Sherlock's mind. Melded with his instincts. If he ever heard that sound, ever, he would become so horny it would hurt. That was interesting. Most born submissives had the ability to bind sexual drive with a mating noise. It made it easier to control your mate's impulses so they didn't run you to the ground with heated sex. But John shouldn't have that ability. He wasn't born a submissive. Curious.

He tasted blood. Yesss. His body yelled at him. _Complete the mating bond. __**Make him yours.**_

His? He was already his. How stupid and irrationa—

Oh for the love of all that was science. John was grinding up against him. Keening. He always liked those short but seemingly drawn out noises of pure submission. His mind was curiously blank as he pushed John harder into the wall and snaked his hand up his jumper. More. He wanted to hear more. He _needed _to hear more.

John let out a small whimper as is nipple was pinched and twisted.

"What do you want, _Bethin?_" He was going to hyperventilate. It felt so fucking good. John was his. His saen. Oh yes. He was going to run his ass to the ground. More like slam it. Ground it. Roughly push it anywhere that would do. But really, who cared what word he used.

Not him. Definitely not him.

"Fuck me like the _horut_ I am." John growled, his one lustful with the hint of a demanding undertone Sherlock loved.

"Well that's easy."

He was going to regret those words. It was the understatement of the century. But that's okay. He didn't mind. Being wrong was the furthest thing from his mind. Which he knew was not like him, because being wrong made him mad. Crazy. Insane.

But if he didn't get these fucking trousers and pants and shirt—pretty much every article of clothing—off John yesterday, he was going to blow up and that did not just account for the thick arousal in his pants.

And that's when it became truly animalistic.

John pulled his own shirt off and ripped Sherlock's 200 dollar french handmade silk button-down off. He would have been upset, if not for the delicious felling of nails scratching down his naked torso. Not lightly, oh no. John made sure to make it hurt.

If he had cur off one of his fingers Sherlock wouldn't have minded. Oh, it was heaven. The mixture of pain and pleasure made him groan.

Without a thought he grabbed John's trousers and pants and shoved them off with one fluid motion. He then proceeded to slowly rake his nails down the expanse of John's skin. Down his shoulders, upper back middle back lower back waist buttocks. It was never ending and without pause.

John let out the sound again. The mating call. Hot heat flashed down Sherlock's spine and the heat got stronger. Almost too much to bear. Almost.

"Just fucking stick it in me already." Well aren't we eager today. Ah, who was joking. They both were panting messes who couldn't even form the lingering thought that maybe the living room wall next to open windows and drawn back curtains and slightly ajar door to the stairway leading down to the entrance was not exactly the most... _thoughtful_ place to shag.

But oh, it was _hot._

Sherlock held the under flesh of John's thighs and pushed him back harder into the wall, yanking the doctor's legs up and placing them around his waist. When had John unbuckled his belt? His doctor was on_ fire_.

John's legs clamped down around his waist and he settled his back in a more suitable position against the wall. His eyes were a slow smoldering flame of blue locked on to sharp endless sea foam gray.

Something slipped. His mind faltered. No one looked at him like that. With such wide trusting eyes. His hands slipped under John to find him already slick. Positively dripping. He leaned into John and kissed him. Once. It was so very sweet.

_I love you. _That's what he just said.

And John knew it. John is a clever boy.

John gasped and hit his head on the wall as he threw his head back. Sherlock's middle finger pressed deep, right on his sweet spot. "More," the blonde hissed out, bucking into his hand as best as he could given his current position. "Don't be gentle, Sherlock. Rip my fucking insides with your dick. Make me bleed. Fuck me like a dog in heat."

Holy Mother Mary and Joseph. John had quite a mouth. Sherlock stared to shiver and quake. He wasn't going to last very long.

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John saw the look on his face and he growled, unhooking his hands from Sherlock's head to dip them down to his trousers. He unbuttoned and unzipped the fly with frightening fluidity. He was going to hell for this.

Sherlock's trousers hit the floor at the same exact time John pushed the idiot detective's pants down and exposed his dick. Oh yes.

He slid his hands down to his own arse and slicked his whole hand with his own natural lubricant. Sherlock watched, his face contorted and his body shaking. This man was fucking useless. He wasn't even the one in heat.

Once he grabbed his dick, though, his look of utter concentration for control was lost and he cried out, digging in his nails in his saen's thighs and gripping them tightly. He shook tremendously and then gave a small sob.

_You have got to be kidding me._

"Sherlock Holmes, I now declare you a teen-aged boy." John almost laughed, but it came out more as a growl. "I hardily touched you." He added, looking down at the cum that now coated his stomach. "You better build a stamina really quick, laddie."

Without even thinking it through, John held the base of Sherlock's still hard dick and thrust his hips, impaling him onto his mate's dick.

His heat made him so slick that it only hurt a minute amount. It mostly felt fucking fantastic.

"Fuck me, please." John whined.

Apparently he didn't have to ask twice.

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Sherlock was stunned. John had made him cum by touching him once. _Once_.

He wasn't one to brag (okay so he was) but he was pretty sure that his stamina was about ten times better than that.

Apparently not with John.

Somehow in his daze he found himself inside of John. Good lord, this was pure heaven. But then John spoke.

"Fuck me, please."

Oh. Gladly.

He thrust into him with sudden force. He needed to claim his fucking dignity back. Which is really hard to do when your mate is making such delectable sounds. John's hands slid up and fisted his hair. Pulled. Oh yesss. Kinky fucking bastard.

Both of their breathing was irregular and fast. Sherlock felt a strange high from how very little oxygen was now being sent to aid his brain. All of his blood was south anyways.

John's lips were inches away from him. He slipped closer, closing the gap. John opened his mouth and managed to bare his neck at the same time. He was so fucking hot when submissive.

And that's it. John whimpered and then cried out, giving way to the sheer pleasure raking through his body. And Sherlock thrusted once more, leaning in to press his face on John's chest. He groaned, releasing inside of his mate.

His real mate. They were mated now. And it felt so fucking fantastic.

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**Oh good lord. Did I just write that?**

**I'm loopy and delusional right not. Haven't slept for days. My writing seems to take a straight forward and kinky approach when I'm in this state. Excuse my crappy writing.**

**I do love all of your reviews. I promise Aria won't be in much of it, but John and Sherlock need a friend who doesn't see them as two freaks getting' it on. More like two people gettin' freaky. In bed.**

**Hahhah... sorry, I really have no idea what I'm typing. I'm also seeing ants and flying bugs when there are none.**

**I need to sleep.**

**Hope you liked this chapter.**

**Oh, and a side note for people freaking out: _no, he won't get __pregnant__ from the first time as a submissive. The first heat is meant for bonding. So now their mates. _Whoop.**

**He'll get firtle in two weeks. I'm tallying "YES"s and "NO"s for Mpreg now. If you wanna get your vote in (and please, if you can, be a dear and tell me why you choose your answer, I'm quite curious.) **

**Thanks for reading, you guys are awesome.**

**Now time for a nap before I start to see bunnies again.**

**-Zera**


	18. So Sorry

**To the "Guest" reviewer that reviewed my story 3 times on accident.**

_I don't know any other way to contact you, so ignore this if your not h/s/n._

I find that I can not just let you slip away. You seem quite awesome, to be honest.

Even though I took a nap I made the mistake of eating sour patch watermelon chews and now I seem to actually be seeing a bunny at the corner of my eye. Sugar seems to fuel my inner crazy. So I'm sorry if this makes no freakin' sense.

Your review made my day. To be honest I sort of clung to it like a lifeline. While eating these freaking chews. I'm going to murder who ever made these. I'm trippin' out and I cant seem to stop.

Any ways.

I'm always looking for a person to help me with my work. You seem really understanding of, well, all of this. Being a writer is hard. My writing sucks. I have no beta. I'm too lazy to go find one.

I feel as if we all write and read fanfiction to run away from the realness of life. We make new worlds in our heads and share them with others hoping one or more people will notice us. I am blessed with so many freaking people who like this piece of crap stuff I spew into my freaking complex-as-fuck world. AU. Alternate Setting. Angel/Demon verse. What ever. I'm tired.

Sorry.

So I am here to ask, dear awesome as awesome can be guest reviewer,

Will you be my beta? Maybe just someone who helps me with ideas? I am slowly using up all my ideas for this... thing... and I want it to draw out a lot longer.

Or just be my friend, at least.

Or is that too weird?

Freaking hell. I'm so sorry. To you and to the annoyed people who thought this was a chapter. I apologize, and will delete this if I get a reply from my magical guest reviewer.

Or anyone, to be honest.

I'm sorry. I'm just so lonely. I live in a large city and never get out. I leave my house about once a week. I stay up for days at a time, staring at my computer screen. I even go to online school. I don't mean to whine. But my followers on tumblr and on here and my two online friends who live in different time zones and my girlfriend who lives across the city are all I have.

If _anyone_ wants a friend, I swear to god I'm _right here_. I'm waiting.

I'm sorry.

Thank you. So much. All of you.

-Zera.


	19. PSA and FYI

PSA

Hey all! I'm going to be gone for a bit (a week). Going to camp.

But I will have one (or two!) Chapters written by the time I get back home. And I'm pretty sure they will be okay lenth, but who knows. Maybe longer.

I have decided that I will split the fic two ways. One will be with Mpreg, where John and Sherlock get a surprise. Or maybe it will be planned. Who knows.

The other will be without mpreg.

I know this will become confusing in about 2.3 seconds, and for that, I apologize.

I will post the Mpreg and the non Mpreg on this fic. I have decided it will be easier (for me!) To not have to deal with making it seperate.

So, here is how it will work.

The non Mpreg's chapter titles will look like this:

Crashing into a Loophole Nonpreg

While the Mpreg's title will look like this:

Crashing into a Loophole Mpreg

So when you get an alert, all you have to do is check the title of the chapter. If you're following the Mpreg's story line, then just read the Mpreg chapters, and vice-versa for Nonpreg. Or both, if you like both.

In the Nonpreg, I'm pretty certain that John will not be firtile. I'm sorry, but for some reason having to write "he rolled the condom on" just isn't apealing to me. I'm all for safe sex, I mean duh, but if you want hot steamy sex, pausing in the middle of the action to slip a rubber on is not exactly the greatest thing to break the flow of the scene. At least for me.

But I'll have to bare it in the Mpreg storyline... at least for awhile.

Heh.

I am so greatful to all of you! I just want to tell you your reviews are freaking awesome. My Mystery Guest has contacted me, and we are actively musing about anything and everything. She's awesome. :)

I have been getting sleep now so the bunnies have left and I can stand the daylight again!

Also, if you want to read and see what I will be doing at camp, follow my personal tumblr ( the urls are under my list of fandoms on my bio, please remember to add th p: / / before the address, or it sends you somewhere weird:/ ) or just check it out! I will not be able to get ahold of wifi, and sadly I do not have data, but I can text pictures and small bunches of text to my tumblr via texting it's email. Pretty cool.

You guys are awesome, so stick around and I will be updating as soon as I can!

-Zera 


	20. Slow Start

John shut the cab door and made his way to the large, Victorian era house. Sherlock grumbled and followed, acting like he was being dragged to the door. John didn't even bother knocking, because he knew it would be unlocked. Striding in with the tall detective on his heels, he stopped short and blinked at what he saw.

A group of demon men and women were setting decorations and arranging the table. In the middle of all the chaos, a small white-winged angel female with blonde hair bristled at some demons when they set a pot of flowers near the back exit to the kitchen. She snapped her teeth and pointed to the other exit, leading into the hall, where she wanted them to go. The demons looked offended, their wings twitching and their stances becoming defensive. Although the tiny angel was clearly a submissive, and was surrounded by alpha and neutral demons, the sudden silence did not seem to phase her, nor the tension in the air.

"Move your asses," she hissed, a dark authoritative undertone seeping into the words. Behind her, coming in the large house via sliding doors leading outside, a male of Sherlock's height ducked his head to avoid slamming it on the glass door's frame. The angel shifted, as if unconsciously, gravitating toward and around the man without even looking at him. He was a demon, with dark brown wings and a gentle face. Black hair cut in a modern shaggy and spiky haircut framed his big, unnaturally pale light green eyes. The submissive angel turned slightly, letting John see her eye color was a dark reddish blue.

Behind him, he felt Sherlock shift, moving closer and in a looming, protective stance.

"Get your _submissive_ under control." One of the alpha demons hissed to the tall demon.

John knew the demon after some staring. Small flashes of Afghanistan in his memory featured him in the background covering them as John cared for the wounded.

Ash! So the submissive he suddenly had a defensive stance for must be Hailie.

"If you wish to keep your jobs, ladies and gentle men, I strongly suggest listening to my saen's requests." Ash's eyes swept over the frozen demons, and then relaxed his stance. "And demands." he then turned to smile at John with warmth behind his odd, pale eyes. "John! Aria told me you would be coming here to help out."

John felt Sherlock relax as the demons quickly went back to work. Hailie sneered at the demon who had called her a submissive so rudely.

"Fuck!" Aria's voice wafted downstairs from the stairs Sherlock had his back to. He whipped around, as did John, staring up. "_Incoming_!" Aria yelled just as a huge, sleek Great Dane barreled down the stairs. It smacked right into Ash, who had tensed so the huge dog wouldn't topple him over. It's tail went fifty miles an hour, smacking John's leg repeatedly until Sherlock pulled him to the left. Aria ran down the stairs after him, giving Ash an apologetic wince. "I'm so sorry, babe. I was switching his collars when he heard your voice." She held up a large, studded collar and let it dangle from her index finger as she talked. The Dane left Ash's side and went to go sit to the right of Hailie, plopping down to lean protectively against the angel and glare at the demons. Hailie twisted her upper body and held out her hands to Aria, who chucked the collar at her ready waiting hands with precision.

Hailie fashioned the collar on the Great Dane, turning back to give orders to the suddenly listening demons. John almost snorted. Throw in a large loyal dog in the picture and suddenly they wont question the submissive. Traditionalists were idiotic in his mind's eye.

"It's alright. Is Zofia still in her crate..?" Ash asked but then trailed off when a large odd-looking German Shepherd mix came down the stairs with the stealthiness of a wolf. She glanced at everyone with a calculating gaze as She stood at Aria's side, then sat gracefully at Aria's feet.

"Interesting. I've yet to see such a calm wolf-dog." Sherlock mused, gazing at Zofia with a raised eyebrow.

"We used them for tracking in Afghanistan," John muttered, nodding at Zofia. "She was just a pup when Aria got her to train." He crouched down to hold out his hand. Zofia gazed at him and then looked away, up at Aria, not bothering to sniff his hand.

"She remembers you," Aria smiled as John got back up.

"How'd you end up with her, though?" John wondered aloud. Most of the pups had been wild, ate too much, and refused to listen. To be honest it had been a long shot, breeding a German Shepherd with a wolf they had caught on the way into Afghanistan. Only two survived, Zofia and a gray wolf they called Rumble, because each time he tracked a person in the desert, a strange rumble he made got louder and louder the closer they got to the target. John used Rumble once to find a wounded man who had become crazed and left the medical tent and wondered off. No one but Aria ever used Zofia for any task; she refused to listen or protect anyone else. John remembered that half the work crew sent in requests to the main base of operations for Zofia to get her very own bullet proof vest, because once Aria left to ward off an invading unit from the enemy's side and Zofia chewed out of the tent she was confined in to run after Aria and fight along with her. John chuckled as Aria smiled, a wicked glint in her eyes.

"Let's just say I pulled some strings and ruffled some feathers."

"I would like to know about her eating habits and natural behavior, if that is alright," Sherlock said, fascination clearly in his voice.

"Sure," Aria said easily, shrugging.

"Just don't get between her or Aria, or use a threatening tone, stance or expression directed at Aria," John quickly stated, knowing full-well what happened to anyone who did. In the battle field, Zofia was a force no one could beat. And off the battle field, she was a fierce protector. John once had to stitch up a soldier from his own unit because they had threatened and tried to punch Aria. Sixty-eight stitches.

Sherlock eyed John as his voice crept into captain mode. "She is a lethal force and while it is known she does not mind being messed with or even manhandled herself, she will kill you if you so much as push Aria threateningly. Got that, Sherlock?"

Sherlock's smile was broad. "Yes, Captain."

John was going to ignore the pang of lust that that caused. For now.

"So what can we do to help...?" John asked, turning to Aria and Ash.

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The decorating and setting up was done and the demons cleared out while the tailors rushed in. The whole time John and Sherlock helped out, Aria had been all over the place; outside in the garden assembling an arch on the stage that rested on the grassy meadow with Ash and covering it in flowers, rushing back inside to fix a malfunctioning toilet with John, getting out her power tools and hanging elegant streamers. What fascinated Sherlock was the way Zofia followed Aria around without once getting in her way. Seconds before Aria would move, the half-dog would get up and wait for her to. Once he saw her trotting away by herself to Aria's power tool box, grabbing a screw driver into her mouth and trotting back to hand it to her master.

The Great Dane, whose name Sherlock found out was Hector, had taken a liking to John. Ash explained that Hector had a soft spot and protective streak when it came to submissives. John and Hailie chatted absently while hanging small streamers on the edges of the snack table and punch table while the Dane lay on the floor close to them, head on his paws, watching them closely. Hailie was actually quite sweet and laid back. She explained grudgingly that the demons had tried to make her "_Submit_", which pretty much meant "_Shut up_", before John and Sherlock got there, and Aria had already threatened to fire them. Apparently they were paying them a large sum.

Aria snorted at that. "Not anymore, I'm not."

Hailie smiled at that, brushing her wing against hers as a thank you.

The Three mates worked in perfect unison. Aria enthused to John about the telepathic link that forms slowly until its strong and unbreakable while she swept the floors and Hailie set silverware. Sherlock stopped eying Zofia to listen in with deep interest.

"It took ours two months, because we have three of us," Aria laughed. "It was weird, you know, to get little snippets of your mate's thoughts. But we learned how to control it once it was at its strongest. Like right now, Hailie is musing about Ash's ass."

Hailie whipped around and smacked Aria on the arm. Sherlock noted that Zofia didn't even shift. She must know a play fight vs. a real one.

"It's a nice ass," Hailie muttered, turning back to place the forks. She wasn't ashamed, though. She smiled broadly and Aria rolled her eyes.

"Not as nice as yours, sweetie!" Ash yelled from outside.

John chuckled as he took a streamer that had been draped across Sherlock's arms. They had started using him as a place to set streamers and even napkins ever since he refused to stand on a latter and hang them. Aria had let it slide, secretly understanding that it was instinct. He needed to be ready if there was any threat. Being on a latter while hanging streamers was not, in his opinion, being ready. And Aria was all over the place, so he was the guard. A deep seeded packmenship was seeping deep into his core, an effect of being around a group of already bonded and close mates. It used to be long ago that groups, or packs, of demons or angels (and rarely—but it happened—demons and angels) of two to five mated couplings would travel and live together. It was like a village within a village, and the feeling of being in a group was surprisingly quite nice.

"When are the others coming?" John asked, climbing down from the latter to glace at Hailie.

"Mmm... tomorrow. My mom's coming tonight, and Aria's sister too. I think their coming down together."

"We have five guest rooms here," Ash yelled out, and then grunted as a piece of wood from a dismantled arch slipped from his grip and hit his foot.

"Yes, that's true," Aria said, smiling as she stopped sweeping and leaned on the broom handle. "You can stay here, spare two more cab fares."

"That sounds lovely," Sherlock said smoothly. John looked up, surprised. Aria smiled knowingly and left to go help Ash out with the heavy wooden arch pieces and hurt foot, Zofia trotting smoothly after her, while Hailie winked at John and left to go get her mobile to order takeout.

"Wheres my anti-social Sherlock and what have you done with him," John teased, a hint of true curiosity in his gaze.

"It... It's the group dynamic, John." He finally mumbled after a minute. "It..."

"Makes you feel safe?" John said after a moment of silence as Sherlock's words faded away and did not seem to come back to him.

"Yes. Like I belong. When the tailors took Hailie's measurements a couple of hours ago, I.."

"Yes, I noticed. You stood guard because Aria was outside. It was... sort of weird, because I started tending to her, as well. Sort of hovering to make sure they were gentle." John worried his lip for a moment and then breathed, "I wasn't jealous, either. Because I knew you were mine and I was yours, while Hailie belonged to and had Ash and Aria."

They stood there a few seconds before smiling at each other.

"I love you, you idiotic git." John said, slipping closer to kiss Sherlock gently on the mouth.

Sherlock paused and then leaned over to bury his face in John's neck and inhale.

"I love you too."


	21. Team Spirit

**ALIGHT!**

**Edited and updated version now up! Devour it, my dears, and tell me what you think!**

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"TIIIMMEEE TOOO WAKKEEE UPPP!" John's voice nearly shouted, a slight sing-song weave to the words.

"No, please," Ash groaned, shifting in closer to the middle of the bed, where Hailie uttered some demon insult in annoyance at John, muffled by the pillow her face was smashed against. Aria grunted and promptly fell out of the king sized bed, taking a pillow and half of a quilt with her, tangling and tumbling onto the soft rug on the floor. She stayed there, moaning in harsh French into the fluffy purple rug, her wings flicking the quilt in irritation.

"_Juste une minute de plus_," she groaned, nuzzling into the rug and pillow defiantly.

"Sorry, but I don't speak_ 'oh hon hon,'_" John quipped, snickering when Aria flipped him the two fingered salute.

"_Dieu, je vous déteste._"

"What did she say?" John asked, turning to Ash, who was trying with little success to disengage himself from the mass of blankets his feet and wings were trapped in.

"She swears on God that she hates you," he muttered, groggily, "or something like that. Not my second language, you know. I do better with Arabic." He stumbled over the last word as he staggered out of the bed, jostling his body until the blankets fell away. He shook his wings out, stretching them. Hailie groaned, lifting up her head to eye Ash with a hard stare, but her eyes were blank and unseeing.

"You look like a zombie," Ash smiled, a sleepy quirk of the mouth.

"_You_ need to get a shower." John said, grabbing Ash's shoulder and twirling him to the door, placing a determined hand on the lower part of his back and pushing him towards the hallway. Ash hummed his acknowledgment as he ran a hand through his tousled black hair absently, making his way out the door and down the hall.

"And _you_," John said, turning to the lump of alpha on the floor, still muttering lolled french into the rug's fringe, "are to be dressed into your suit and greeting people at the door in," he checked his watch, "five hours. Knowing how you handle mornings and getting ready, you better be ready to consume coffee once you actually get up."

Hailie shifted in the bed, moving towards the side until she poked her leg out over the edge to place her foot on Aria's shoulder and jostle it halfheartedly, clinging to the loose t-shirt with a curl of her toes. dragged her foot up and then pushed down harder, smacking the alpha's shoulder and brushing up against her feathers. "Lève-toi imbécile, c'est notre jour du mariage," she drawled, a light teasing edge to her tone.

"Why is everyone speaking french?" John sighed, exasperated. "You're talking about me, aren't you?"

Hailie smiled, rolling her eyes. "I just told her to get up. And reminded her what day it is." she paused to poke at the heap of body and blankets at her feet once more. "She always reverts back to french in the mornings."

"Right, okay. You both need to get up, and about, like, now, unless you want your wedding to never happen." John sighed, rubbing his face with his hands as he made his way to the door.

"Since when did you become my wedding planner?" Aria drawled, a slight lilt to her words that still had a soft french base. John knew her father was french, but the tell-tale accent hardily ever surfaced, masked by the deep-rooted traditional London accent.

"Since you failed to wake up in time. Sherlock's making breakfast," he added the last bit only because he knew the reaction it would have. Aria sprang up, the blanket falling away. Hailie hummed in appreciation; besides the too-big-t-shirt (probably Ash's), all she had donned on her lithe body was a pair of cream-colored knickers. Her back was to Hailie, giving her a full good view of her bottom.

"Nice ass," Hailie purred, reaching over to smack the flesh with a flicker of glee in her eyes. Aria turned her head and flashed a flirtatious smile, her wings flaring out in a halfhearted dominant display.

"Girls," John sighed, "as much as I understand the impulse, everyone in this house—including you're mother," he eyed Hailie to get his point across, "would not appreciate you two shagging before the wedding. That's for _after_," he rolled his eyes.

Aria shrugged and her and John left together to assemble in the kitchen with the rest of the family. Aria's sister laughed at her from a stool at the counter that was attached to the middle island that was the stove and counter space. She reached over when Aria eagerly watched Sherlock cook, and snapped the band of spandex on her underwear. Aria ignored the childish, if not inappropriate, sibling-teasing in favor of the breakfast sausage Sherlock had just added to the pan.

Without thinking, John bumped Sherlock out of the way with his hip and fluttered his wing against his to grab a spatula from the large mug sitting on the counter that held various cooking utensils, and tend to the eggs. Sherlock shifted his flow to accommodate the new, but welcomed, intrusion. Working side-by-side, John flipped Aria's fried egg as Sherlock worked on the hash-browns. John felt a slight tug in his mind, and he absently reached over to the counter and retrieved the salt grinder, handing it to Sherlock without looking up from his own pan. Sherlock paused, a hint of surprise in his posture, and it took him a second to take the grinder from his loose grip. John to looked up, confusion on his face.

"Thought you wanted the salt? Or was it the pepper?" John asked, flipping Aria's egg again and then pressing the spatula on top of the egg to brown the surface of the egg without even needing to look. He eyed Sherlock, still confused as he took the salt, his gaze flickering to his hands as his fingertips brushed unnecessarily over his own as he seized the grinder. His wings twitched uneasily.

"Yes, this is what I wanted," Sherlock purred, his deep baritone soothing the faint but prominent undertone of slight panic and instinctive need to please within John's new but salient submissive tendencies. _It was just salt, for god's sake_, John grumbled to himself in his mind. _No need to get your panties in a bunch, you idiot. _His shoulders and wings relaxed.

"But I didn't ask for it. I was going to get it, and I was thinking about it, but I didn't ask you." Sherlock said, cocking his head and glancing at Aria. "Is this what you and your mate's experienced, though the bond?"

Aria smiled, but her eyes were still on the fried egg John was sliding from the pan and onto a plate. "Yeah. Started with little things, like when Ash had an itch on his back and Hailie scratched it, or when Hailie was tipsy at a club and we both grabbed her arms to steady her without thinking. Next came urges, like when I was in the bathtub and needed a clean set of towels, but they were all in the wash, and then Ash came in with a towel and told me I just sort of... _tugged _at his mind and he had came with the towel without a thought." She eyed the sausage in longing and tapped a fork on her bottom lip impatiently as Sherlock quirked his eyebrow at her to continue and ground some salt over the hash-browns.

"Next came little words and flashes of images, like when Ash tripped and fell in a puddle and I heard Hailie's voice in my head saying '_idiot_.'" She chewed thoughtfully at the tines of her fork, as if she was envisioning a morsel of food was present between the tongs. "I was in a completely different part of Ireland at the time, in a really important and stressful meeting, and no one understood why I was suddenly laughing really inappropriately." She smiled. "Then later you master all of it, and it becomes really strong. You can push at you're mate's mind and get little flashes of thought, or they can offer you a sort of telepathic link. If you really concentrate, you can let them feel what you're feeling." She winked at John then. "I recommend trying that in the bedroom. Really intense. Highly orgasmic."

Her sister, Agatha, piped up then. "I second that statement. Ben and me tried it when Aria told me about it. Fan-fucking-tastic."

Hailie's mom snorted into her orange juice. "Please. Once you hit my age, your bond is so strong, it doesn't even compare."

"Yeah? Wanna go, old hag?" Agatha teased, making Hailie's mom (Genevieve, if John remembered correctly from last night's brief introduction at a really ungodly hour, just before he and Sherlock stumbled into bed), laugh with the air of a teenager. She seemed like one of those cool, intricate grandmas that have a drawer in the kitchen full of candy and talked freely about otherwise uncomfortable subjects for most seniors.

"Lets compare." apparently, they both weren't kidding because they moved to the smaller dining room that was not going to be used in the wedding and started chatting animatedly about their times in the bedroom.

"I should let in Zofia," Aria mused, setting down her fork on the counter. She turned to go to the front room where the wedding reception would take place to head to the sliding glass doors and let the dogs back in, only to bump into a bare torso. A bare _wet_ torso. Her gaze flickered over Ash's frame, drinking in the sight. "Oh." She smiled, a lazy, predatory smile, which reminded John that she was, by all means, an alpha, no matter how laid back she was. Her feathers rose slightly from their silky smooth lines, puffing up. "Hello, handsome."

Ash purred, a soft sound, distinctly beta; Alphas were known to be feral, more of a deep-rooted purr that reverberated out from their core and could be heard across the room; betas were right in the middle, less intimidating and concentrating from the throat; while submissives were known to let out a sort of keen, higher-pitched and sometimes associated with a demanding tone. John (_thankfully_, he thought,) actually leveled out to the beta standards of a purr, a mixture of the two parts of him that came to a compromise; _I will not sound like a submissive but now it's out of the question to sound like an alpha. _Sherlock had a low purr that vibrated his whole body, one not heard often, which made it even more alluring when John enticed it out of him.

John tended to the eggs while Aria and Ash left to straighten things up outside, leaving the right sliding glass door open. With no warning, Hector bound in, sniffing the kitchen eagerly and nosing John's bare legs with his huge cold wet nose.

"Oi!" He hissed, shoving the Dane's huge head away from his crouch as he tried to sniff there. "Restricted area, sorry, mate." He said, the fondness overwriting the annoyance in his voice.

Sherlock reached over to bop the huge dog's nose with the heavy end of the handle of his spatula. "Restricted to one, he means," he said to Hector, eying him sternly as if he would understand. "And I do not intend to share." his tail curled protectively around John's leg.

"You're talking to a dog, Sherlock," John rolled his eyes.

"Only I am aloud to scent you there." Sherlock mumbled, his tail still snaking around his leg.

John didn't ignore the carefully constructed phrasing of that statement, even though the tail was slightly distracting. He chewed over the words while Hector romped out of the kitchen and left to go find other people who would give him pets, not a bop on the nose.

"So others can scent me elsewhere?" he asked, confusion and surprise in his voice. Despite his 'I do not care' attitude, Sherlock was quite a possessive dator.* He hated when Greg would make the normal, human mistake of touching the crease of John's inner elbow—two very important scent glands were there, evolved over time to scent newly born offspring. Demon submissives had them under the wrist, invisible, but Sherlock was well-aware and very attentive to John's angel anatomy. He knew not to touch behind John's ear, for example, unless he wanted John immobile on his knees, paralyzed and submitting without consent, which, thankfully, he never dared to even try.

But he payed immense attention to the nape of his neck, where an invisible spot near the fuzzy fringe of his hair held a very interesting gland. When touched by a mate, family member, or group member, it released a chemical within his bloodstream that relaxed the body and mind into a peaceful, content stable state. It had the opposite affect when touched by a stranger or fiend. Sherlock's growl snapped John out of his university-educated musings and he blinked up at Sherlock, turning he head slightly to the side to show a sliver of his throat on inherent aptitude. His wings folded submissively.

"Not just _anyone_ can go scent you willy-nilly," Sherlock rumbled, shifting his stance as he turned off the burner and removed the pan from the stove onto a hot-pad that lay waiting on the counter. He then turned to John without the consequence of burning the hash-browns. "Someone like Lestrade, or even mrs Hudson, or—" his eyes narrowed and his pupils turned to pinpricks—"_Mycroft_, scenting you, makes me want to hurl them across the wall and—"

"—Sherlock," John said quickly, reaching over to grip his shirt collar, "Sherlock no—"

"—Let me finish, John." He gazed into his mate's eyes, his hands sliding out to grip John's waist with a defensive hunch of his back, as if he was defending, shielding John from the outside world. His wings slid around them, encasing them in a tight bubble of space. "If they did it, it would be unacceptable. But..." he paused, but only briefly, his face softening slightly, "But if Aria or Ash or Hailie scented you—not too much, just enough to get a faint scent on you—then that... that would make me... happy." The alpha made a face at this realization, as if he did not _know_ why it would make him feel _good_ about someone else's scent on his mate. "It would be good. To know they accepted you." His wings brushed up against John's shoulders.

"You..." John cleared his throat, eying his mate before continuing. Running his hand soothingly over the cotton of Sherlock's white button down, over his collarbones and under the fold of the folded collar of his shirt, grazing his shoulders, he said, soothingly, "If you would like, I could ask Aria if a grouping could be made, a..." he paused, trying to remember the angel word from mandatory uni history lessons, "a _taldea_, if you really want... I," he looked down to his hands and followed their movements. "I wouldn't mind. I think it would be good for us, really. You're not close to your family and, well," he grimaced, "My family isn't the best either. And I know that Aria was looking over 221C, because Hailie's family owns a refurbishing and remodeling company, so they would be close—"

Sherlock's lips pressed over his, and what ever else he was going to stutter out got lost and died in his throat. Sherlock's hands crept under John's shirt as his tongue invaded his mouth, a welcome intrusion, if you asked John. Sherlock's tail was brushing up against John's zip, and he groaned as Sherlock reached under his back to stroke where the wing jointed with the shoulder.

A loud but dulled thump caused them to break apart and look to the sound's origin. Sherlock raised his eyebrow as he watched with unhindered fascination. Hailie and Ash were in a very heated, tangled, and passionate "discussion" as Aria would call it, pressed up against the wall right of the hallway, in full view of John and Sherlock, still pressed up against each other in a similar fashion. Their wings were tangled together and Ash's tail was slipping under the fringe of Hailie's shirt.

When Agatha walked in to get food, she didn't look surprised to find the two couples of mates, practically in the same room, in the same position.

But since John and Sherlock were no longer in a "heated debate"—again, Aria's words—she directed her amusement to the now groping couple pressed flush against the wall.

"Get a room, you guys," she mumbled as she grabbed a plate and piled it with food. "Or wait till the honeymoon, at least. And get your dress on, Hails, you're not helping anyone if you're late to walk the wedding march."

Hailie, panting, her body rippling against her nexe,* huffed out a lazy "Fuck off, we're getting married" and then continued to devour Ash's mouth.

Sherlock turned to a now very red-faced John, and nipped his ear. "You know, it's funny; usually when I see couples like that, it makes me feel ill. But seeing that doesn't cause my stomach to flip. Seeing them like that doesn't make me aroused, either," he whispered, nuzzling lazily into John's neck. "I don't see two idiots getting off. I see two people who share... strong sentimental bonds showing affection." he laughed lightly. "Or three people, with them." he then pulled back, gazing at John. "I can tolerate them, and keep their company and it makes me quite... happy to have them around, but they don't have _romantic sentiment_ towards us, and would not get in the way of our mating." He smiled broadly. "I think a _taldea_ would be perfect."

He'd always had wanted a family.

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**Ah, yes. Hello. How are you? Good?**

**I am dreadfully sorry about the delay, but I was a fool and thought typing while sitting on my bed was a good idea. For a really, really long time. Like, three days straight.**

**Sigh.**

**Besides being very close to having Carpal Tunnel, (Twice!) I have found my life in a disarray. School has started, and since I go to online school, I am on the computer 24/7, but for _school_. Ugh.**

**So please, please be patient. Unlike many of my fics that are on "StandBy", this fic is always on my mind.**

**So! Feed me ideas! Message me on my tumblr (_achoo-manoo_—make sure to add the h-t-t-p-:-/-/ (ignore the slashes, FF doesn't let you put links in works :/ ) because it sends you so some weird ad thing if you don't, or PM me, or email me at blackoutsuckas (Gmail account).**

**Your reviews feed my soul.**

**~Zera Henna**

_*see chapter entitled "Dictionary" and look at definitions :)_


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